Time After Time
by x.Trixie.x
Summary: Moment after moment. Memory after memory. Things happen and things change because of the force of fate. Will Maxwell be able to be with Fran or will it be too late? x.Finished.x
1. The Power of Goodbye

**Chapter 1: The Power of Goodbye**

****

It was a cool, late October afternoon in New York. Fran Fine sat in the back of a Yellow Cab Company taxi, black tears from her mascara streaming down her face. She was wearing a dark violet, nurse-style short dress. Which was accessorized with a jet-black leather jacket and pumps. Her head full of brunette curls cascaded down her shoulders as she leaned back against the shiny, semi-comfortable backseat. Desperately, Fran tried to deal with the mixed emotions plaguing her mind.

'Why did my life have to get so complicated? I know that love is a hard game to play, but I'm tired of always losing. Mr. Sheffield has shattered my heart one too many times. This time his thoughtless words tore me apart and ripped me to shreds. There's too many broken pieces now and my heart is not some kind of puzzle that can be put back together. I don't know whether to be angry with him or heartbroken that he doesn't care. I feel like I'm a little of both. And then there are these other feelings I'm having, like maybe this is a relief. A wake up call to move on, because there is no way in hell I'm going to get with Mr. Sheffield. Fate just _loves _to screw me over. It's the very damn thing that brought me to that house—other than to sell "Shades of the Orient" makeup of course.'

The argument they had replayed in her mind as she wiped her eyes.

Flashback:

_IF YOU WEREN'T SO AFRAID TO STEP ON THE GODFORSAKEN CRACKS ON THE SIDEWALK OF LIFE, THEN MAYBE THINGS WOULD BE OTHERWISE!_

_YOU DON'T NEED ME! I'M SURE YOU CAN FIND SOME LOWLIFE OFF THE STREET THAT WILL DO YOU JUST FINE! ALL YOU PROBABLY WANT IS SEX ANYWAY!_

_But I... love you. I thought that meant something to you._

_Well I'm sorry Miss Fine, but I don't seem to feel the same way. I only think of us as good friends._

_Then why did you say that you loved me on the trip back from Paris?_

_FOR THE LAST TIME IT WAS A NEAR-DEATH EXPERIENCE! I WANTED YOU TO KNOW THAT SOMEONE CARED FOR YOU BEFORE YOU DIED. NO ONE WANTS TO FEEL UNWANTED!_

_WHY DID YOU SAY IT THEN? YOU HAD TO HAVE MEANT IT! YOU SURE AS HELL DON'T CARE ABOUT MY FEELINGS NOW!_

_I DIDN'T AND NEVER WILL MEAN IT! I TOOK IT BLOODY BACK DIDN'T I? SOMEONE WHO LOVES SOMEONE DOESN'T TAKE THINGS BACK! THE ONLY PERSON I EVER LOVED AND EVER WILL LOVE IS SARA! AND SHE'S DEAD! END OF STORY!_

Fran's tears flowed like mad as she looked at him with deep sorrow in her eyes. She started towards the door.

_Wait! Miss Fine..._

Fran ran out of his office, sobbing heavily. Never, had he been so hateful and cruel. His words stabbed knives in her heart and she could feel her heart bleeding for him. She shoved some money in her jacket pocket from her purse, called a taxi and waited outside. He never came after her. When the taxi came, she knew she had to get away. Fran needed to have a drink badly, because being sober was too agonizing. So she was off to the bar.

* * *

Madonna's song "The Power of Goodbye" played on the radio in the taxicab. The lyrics made Fran think about Mr. Sheffield as she looked out the window at everything rushing by. 

_Your heart is not open so I must go  
The spell has been broken? I loved you so_

_Freedom comes when you learn to let go  
Creation comes when you learn to say no_

_You were my lesson I had to learn  
I was your fortress you had to burn  
Pain is a warning that something's wrong  
I pray to God that it won't be long  
Do you wanna go higher?  
  
There's nothing left to try  
There's no place left to hide  
There's no greater power than the power of good-bye_

_Your heart is not open so I must go  
The spell has been broken? I loved you so  
You were my lesson I had to learn  
I was your fortress  
  
There's nothing left to lose  
There's no more heart to bruise  
There's no greater power than the power of good-bye_

_Learn to say good-bye  
I yearn to say good-bye_

_There's nothing left to try  
There's no more places to hide  
There's no greater power than the power of good-bye_

_There's nothing left to lose  
There's no more heart to bruise  
There's no greater power than the power of good-bye_

'I need to say farewell to Maxwell Sheffield. But it's not so easy. He's taken residence in my heart and I can't evict him.'

Fran looked down at her hands. Her fingernails were painted a vivid orange—but not all manicured and fancy like she would have regularly gotten done at Fashion Nails. Maggie painted her nails and Fran painted hers during a little girls-night-in they had. She smiled, remembering all the fun times she had with _his_ children. Her smile soon faded, when she came back to reality. She was just the Nanny—nothing more. Fran fiddled with a silver ring that she had her right ring finger. She twisted it around a couple times and slid it on and off. She finally took it off she placed it on her left ring finger.

'Much better.'

The taxi stopped at a red light and Fran looked out the window to her right at a park. A father pushed his little girl on the swings and the mother stood beside, laughing with a real I'm-so-happy smile plastered on her face. The father stopped pushing the child after she got pretty high and kissed his wife. They then picked their daughter up off the swing and hugged her. The traffic light changed to green and the cab proceeded through the intersection. Fran watched the scenery through the window, as the joyful family soon faded behind her.

'I want a simple kid of life. Like _theirs_. But simple seems complicated, at least for me. I just wanna get married and have children and have a loving husband and just be _happy_. Is that so much to ask? Out of all the diamonds and jewels and castles and fame and fortune I could greedily wish for, all I dream of is a simple kind of life. All I want is the simple things, but I'm not even lucky enough to get that. Fate sure dealt me a shitty deck of cards. I don't know what I ever did to deserve this. I just want a family of my own. I want to experience true love and have someone love me back with the same compassion. I want to be happy and not just put on this face that is in a jar by my door and call it that. That face is a lie. As much of a lie as Mr. Sheffield really, truly loving me. I'm just a _friend;_ no even _friends_ call each other by their first names and don't verbally abuse them, so I guess I've been downgraded to his _employee. _So if he only thinks of me as another name on the payroll, _Fran Fine_ is going to quit and _Fran Fine_ doesn't need to get fired just to collect unemployment, because _Fran Fine_ is going to find another job! You don't know how much it pains me just to love you, Maxwell Sheffield.'

Her eyes got glassy and she started to shed tears.

The taxi driver peered at her through his rear-view mirror. He was an older man, in his early 60's. His hair was a blondish color and was dusted with grays. The man was a little on the plump side and was wearing a dress shirt and tie with a dark blue blazer. Suspenders held up his gray trousers. His eyes were a chocolate brown and had a sparkle in them.

"Are you okay ma'am?" His voice was friendly, gentle. It calmed the anxious nerves in her body.

"No, no I'm not. The love of my life just told me where to go, so no I'm not okay. But, I think I'll get over it eventually," she said somberly.

"I'm sorry to here that, you seem like a very nice person Miss. I've had my share of bad luck this week too. My cousin Richard just died a few days ago," the taxi driver said.

"Oh, you poor man. Here I am crying over something so stupid and your cousin just died. My problem is not as important. I'm sorry for your loss," said Fran, sympathetically.

"Whoa, hey, I wouldn't exactly say that. Your problem is just like mine. Love is the reason death causes so much pain. It's the fact that we love them so much and they aren't here with us. But we will see them again in our afterlife. The point is, love hurts and you are hurting right now. Someone you love who is not loving you back is sometimes as wounding as if they died. Your significant other just doesn't know what he's missing," he clarified and smiled at her in the mirror.

"Thank you. You've made me feel a little better." In truth she did feel a little better, her thoughts were sorted out anyway.

"I'm glad. Don't worry your pretty little head about things though. Everything will work out for the good, I'm sure of it. Even if it's not him, you will find true love. Trust me," he said comfortingly.

"I sure hope so," she pleaded. "I'm tired of being alone."

Fran timidly entangled her fingers in her thick locks and gazed at the back of the seat in front of her. If you asked her the color or texture of the chair, she couldn't have answered you. No, because she wasn't looking at the chair. Her eyes burned through it and all she saw were the chaotic thoughts rushing through her head.

'It would be so much easier if I could just forget the day I ever met Mr. Sheffield.'

Little did she know, those words reflected her future.


	2. Drink Away Your Troubles

**Chapter 2: Drink Away Your Troubles**

Fran walked into the dimly lit, one-floor bar called "Mickey's." It was located underneath some various other businesses in the building. Because of its site, it was only open late night and early morning hours. Mickey's was a fairly pricey joint to go to, but it was cozy and it had good drinks. Plus, Fran didn't mind using up her cash as long as she had enough for some cigarettes later. The bar was brick inside with little lights on the walls. There was a lounge area with big comfy chairs, tables to sit at, a karaoke/band stage and the bar was off in the corner with a counter and stools to sit at. Fran's heels clicked on the wood floor as she went over and sat on one of the barstools, not really paying attention to anything.

"Whiskey Sour," she said flatly to the bartender.

"Coming right up," confirmed the bartender and he went off to mix the drink.

Glasses clanked behind the counter and there was a strong smell of liquor in the air.

Fran unzipped her jacket and rested her head on her hand, waiting patiently for her drink. Normally, she'd want to rush the bartender, but she was just glad to be out of that stuffy cab and away from the Sheffield residence. As for a bar, the environment was surprisingly relaxing.

"Nanny Fine?" a voice said a few feet away.

'There's only one person who calls me that—Miss Babcock. Oh God, just what I need now!'

C.C. was sitting just a few chairs down from her, clutching a Cherry Rum in her hand. She casually walked over to Fran and sat next to her. C.C. was wearing a beige pantsuit.

'She even looks professional when she's drinking.'

"Fancy me seeing you here... why the long face Nanny Fine?" questioned C.C after looking at Fran's pained expression.

'Whoa... wait a second. C.C.? Being nice to me? Oh, that's right she's drinking.'

"I just had a fight with Mr. Sheffield. He said some very mean things to me," said Fran in a voice very small, that she didn't even recognize it as herself.

The bartender handed Fran the drink, she gulped it down and asked for another.

"Oh Nanny Fine, he's an asshole. Try doing Broadway business with him. The guy passed on 'Cats,' which was not at all my decision. He just says it was, because he doesn't want to look like the dumb one. He would be nowhere without me," says C.C. reassuringly.

"But I love him and he doesn't love me," she sobbed.

"Take me and Niles. All we do is crack jokes at each other all day long. I feel like a stupid little girl in fourth grade who has a crush on a boy, but is mean to him to hide it," confessed C.C. "Of course the 'Ice Queen' liking someone is probably going to be the gossip of the day for you."

"I know you like Niles," said Fran. "It's no surprise to me."

"What?" exclaimed a shocked C.C., staring wide-eyed at Fran.

The bartender gave Fran another drink and she sipped it.

"I _know_ you like Niles. I'm his best friend. I know what goes on between you two. Except of course he says that he despises you, which I doubt is the case. I saw that kiss and Niles told me about the whole chicken incident," explained Fran.

"No wonder you were laughing along with Niles the next week when he kept on saying, 'Oh Babcock, you're so FOWL!' Well I guess the cat's outta the bag now!" C.C. groaned in disgust.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm the only one who knows and Mr. Sheffield is way to dense to realize anything," reassured Fran.

"Tell me about it," grumbled C.C.

"Listen," said Fran.

"What?" C.C. questioned.

"The music. That guitarist is pretty good," said Fran pointing to the performance stage.

C.C. ran her fingers through her blonde strands before turning around to look at the man.

There was a young man in his 20's with spiky orange hair and red tips, sitting on a stool on the stage and slowly strumming his guitar. He played very well.

C.C. turned back towards Fran.

"Yes, he is good, except for that hair. It looks like flames coming out of his head," said C.C. making a face.

"I think it's hott," commented Fran.

"Right..."said C.C. sarcastically. "Anyways, It's nice to have some music while you drink. Which reminds me, I need to order up. How about you Fran? I'll pay."

"Well, if you put it that way. What the hell? Sure," decided Fran.

"Hey, bartender, we'll both take some Vodka, doesn't matter what's with it, just make it strong," requested C.C.

C.C. tapped her fingers impatiently on the marble counter while waiting for her drink.

"Hey, Miss Babcock?" asked Fran.

"You can call me C.C., Fran," suggested C.C.

"Oh ok, C.C., don't you... don't you ever... you know... wish that you had a family?" questioned Fran.

"Nanny Fine I know that my parents aren't all that friendly with me, but I'm not an orphan," said a confused C.C.

"No, no... I mean like, _your_ _own_ family. Like a husband and children and all that. You know, we're not all that young anymore," Fran said looking at C.C. seriously.

"You know, for one thing I do know all of the names of Maxwell's children. The oldest is Maggie and then the boy is Brighton and then there's little Gracie. The truth is I really don't mind children and since you are so much friendlier and you are their nanny, I figured I didn't need to try to get them to like me. You know of course that they like you better and I know they do. I have no problem with that, I really don't. As to your answer to the question, I guess I have always wanted a husband and a child. In past years that wasn't as much important to me as it probably was for you. I always put my career first. That's just how I was. Being successful and making good money was always my top priority. I figured later on that I would find someone and get married and have children. I can tell you one thing that no matter what Maxwell, you, or Niles think I was never in love with Maxwell. A crush on him would be about it. Of course he is handsome and is a millionaire. What's not to like? Earlier, I felt that it would be nice to marry him, but now I think I'd rather not. Of course, I don't need his money, but it would be a nice extra. If I could ever choose again for love or money... I would have chosen love," confesses C.C.

C.C.'s eyes got watery and she started to cry.

"I just wanna be loved, you know?" said C.C., who looked at Fran and then closed her eyes.

C.C. tilted her head down and covered her eyes with her hand. Fran gave her a hug.

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't have either," said Fran.

"You have the love from your family. I never really had parents or anyone that actually cared about me," whined C.C.

"I care about you," comforted Fran.

"Thank you," said C.C. "What happened between you and Maxwell? Please tell me."

"Mr. Sheffield made it clear to me earlier that there is nothing between us," explained Fran, with a look of sorrow on her face. She tried to hold back her tears, but was unsuccessful and a few fell.

"I can't believe that Maxwell doesn't realize how good of a person you really are. That's just sad. Someone will though Fran, someone will," said C.C., patting Fran's shoulder.

They didn't notice that their drinks were already sitting on the counter.

"C'mon, C.C., let's drink away our troubles!" recommended Fran, grabbing her glass and attempting a smile.

C.C. grabbed her glass.

"I'm all up for that," decided C.C.

They raised their glasses and clanked them together.

"Cheers!" they both said and grinned. Then to the bartender, "Keep 'em coming."

After conversing and drinking for a while, they decided it was time to go. By then, Fran was pretty drunk and C.C. was only a little tipsy, because she could hold the alcohol better.

C.C. hopped off the stool.

"Do you need a ride Fran?" offered C.C. "I'm gonna get a taxi."

Fran tried to get down, but fell and C.C. sort of caught her. She helped her walk safely outside of the bar.

"No, I'm gonna walk up a couple blocks and get some cigarettes. That lil' convenient store on the corner next to the Laundromat has 'em pretty cheap." Fran slurred her words.

C.C. winced at trying to figure out what Fran had said. All she heard was "cigarettes."

"Okay, well mak_e sure_ you get a _taxi_," ordered C.C.

Fran nodded her head in agreement.

After making sure that Fran would do as she said, C.C. walked into a phone booth to call a cab for herself.

Fran then started up the sidewalk going towards the convenient store, feeling very dizzy and having no clue whatsoever of what fate had in store.

* * *

Thank you for all your reviews! : ) 


	3. Mini Mart Mayhem

**Chapter 3: Mini-Mart Mayhem **

Fran was walking towards the convenient store when it started to rain all of a sudden. She touched the top of her hair and she could feel droplets of water. Seeing a newspaper that must have blown in the wind, she picked it up and held it over her head. The city was so beautiful when it rained. She loved it when the streets were shiny and they mirrored your reflection. When cars raced through, the lights on them would send out streaks of color like a blurry rainbow. The rubber tires on the automobiles would devour the small puddles and you could hear the splash, as the water was flown. Right now, this particular avenue was deserted though, so she didn't get to experience all of the very wonderful things of the cloudburst. Of course, that didn't mean she couldn't play in it. Fran opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, like a small child would do in the rain.

"Let me taste your tears," Fran said to the sky.

She always thought of the rain as the sky crying and when the sky is sunny, it's happy. Fran tasted the autumn rain—so new, fresh and unfamiliar the water was. She then tasted her own warm tears that coursed down her cheeks and she could feel the saltiness on her tongue. The misery that was so common existed in each small drop.

Fran reached her hand out to feel the rain

"Let me feel your pain," she said to the sky again. "Pour your sorrow down on me."

The rain slowly tapped atop her palm. It felt so good. She felt as if she could hold up the rain and stop it from its terrible destiny of splashing to the cement. Of course that was just silly, they were just little raindrops. It was just nice to be in control for once. The only thing she thought she could handle, because she definitely couldn't manage her haphazard emotions. Even when drunk, they still somehow slipped their way in.

She remembered herself as a child, in a bright yellow raincoat, hat and boots jumping into puddles. Fran giggled at the thought of her childhood.

'Being a child... so carefree and unaware of how the world really works. Until they grow up and see what they had their eyes shielded to all along. There is so much happiness and love and beauty on this planet, yet there is still so much evil and hate and hurting. Why is it that when it rains, all the memories come flooding out? Even when I 'm drunk, even when I'm away from that house, all I can think about is _him_. I just want to forget everything and be happy and have fun and be silly and stupid.'

She grabbed a hold of a streetlamp pole and spun around, holding her arm out. Fran got dizzy though and started to walk on the sidewalk all zigzagged. She watched as a woman with sandy blonde hair walked into the 24-hour Laundromat up ahead, carrying a plastic, square basket full of clothes. Fran rubbed her temple, her head throbbing, as she went up and looked through the big glass window at the inside. For it being so late, it was strange seeing people wash their clothes.

'I guess they have to do it sometime or another.'

She watched the circle washing machines with the glass windows go round and round and round and round and round—and... she closed her eyes quickly, because it made her woozy.

"I'm getting dizzy and I have a headache," she whined aloud to herself. "I need a cigarette."

Fran slowly stepped away from the window and walked next-door to the mini-mart. A bright neon sign hung above the entrance that flashed: **Quick N' Handy**. That was the name of the mini-mart. She pulled open the glass door and the little bell on the top dinged. Fran entered the store and stumbled down the floor tiles, almost knocking over a whole magazine rack in the process. She leaned up against the front counter to steady herself. Her hair was matted and damp from the rain.

"Pack of Marlboro Lights," requested Fran, her voice desperately trying to sound out the words.

Fran swished her hand to try to point to the shelves of cigarettes and squinted her eyes to focus better.

The man started to reach for the cigarettes.

"Aren't ya gonna card me?" Fran randomly asked.

She knew she wasn't 18 and she knew she didn't even bring her driver's license or anything else besides money for that matter, she just liked to pretend she really was 18.

"Lady, if you're not over 18, then I'm the reincarnation of John Lennon." The cashier said sarcastically. "Not to mention you are drunk, so you have to be over 21."

"I've never been so insulted! But now that ya mention it, you do sorta have a resemblance to Johnnie. Too bad you guys broke up, I never thought I'd see a rock star work in a mini-mart, but you never know, Fran said, looking at him skeptically and laughing drunkenly. "Hey, get me a lighter while you're at it too."

"But you are _very_ fine-looking even if you aren't 18. You should hold up on all the liquor though, I can barely understand you," the cashier said and smiled.

The man put the cigs and the lighter on the counter. Fran reached into her pocket of her leather jacket, handed him some bills and started to walk off.

"Miss, here's your change." He reminded her.

"Keep it, for your sweet talk." She gave a silly smile.

Fran stood in the middle of the store next to a rack of Hostess snacks. Go figure. The top of the Hostess tower said: **Hey, where's the cream filling? Now that's the stuff—Hostess!** She opened the crush-proof box and took out a cigarette. Fran lit it and then took the box and lighter and stuffed it in the pocket of her leather jacket. She raised the cigarette to her red lips.

"Hey, you can't light that up in here. You'll set off the smoke alarm!" alerts the cashier.

She waved him off and took a long drag of her cigarette before taking it out of her mouth to blow out the smoke.

"Much better." She breathed. For the time being, it took away all her stress and worries.

Outside a car screeched into a parking spot, the driver got out and slammed the door shut. Before anyone knew what hit them, a man rushed into the store brandishing a gun. He was wearing all dark clothing and had a ski mask over his head.

"NOBODY MOVE! EVERYBODY EXCEPT THE CASHIER, ON THE FLOOR!" the man yells.

Fran dropped to the ground and put out the cigarette on the floor and threw it.

"Well this just puts the icing on my cake! This just makes my day!" she mumbles.

"NOW NOW NOW!" bellowed the gunman when some of the people hesitated to get on the floor. "DON'T MOVE AND NOBODY GETS HURT!"

"YOU!" He pointed to the cashier. "PUT THE MONEY IN THIS BAG!" He gestured towards the sack he was carrying.

The burglar held the rifle to the head of the cashier as he nervously stuffed the robber's bag with money.

"HURRY UP!" He yelled in the ear of the cashier.

The cashier handed him the now-full bag. On his way out, he sees Fran on the floor and stares at her for a few seconds.

"You, you're coming with me." He told Fran and grabbed her arm forcefully, pulling her out the door.

Fran didn't put up a fight. Well, couldn't actually. She was pretty smashed and didn't really know what was going on by now. All she could think about was sleeping and when she hit the front passenger seat of the burglar's stolen 1988, black Chevy Camaro, that's exactly what she did. After closing Fran's door, the crook got into the driver side, started the car, backed out and started to drive at fast speed. When he got around the corner a police car was waiting, obviously being called while the robbery was taking place. The masked man floored the car and got on the highway. He scraped the guardrail a little until he could pass into the median. Since the traffic was a little heavy, he was able to get ahead of the cops by taking this escape route and then he'd pass back over later. Trying to follow the suspect in the pouring rain, the police car ended up spinning and hitting into a road barricade. By the time the man was on a back road, back up was following him. Two other law enforcement cars suddenly appeared in his rear-view mirror and were in hot pursuit. Because there were no street lights on this old, rural road and their windshields were splashed with heavy rainwater, it didn't take long before the officers lost sight of who they were after. The bandit went down a couple more back roads, then an old dirt road and vanished into the darkness of the late night/early morning with Fran Fine as a hostage.


	4. Where's Fran?

**Chapter 4: Where's Fran?**

Maxwell tossed and turned beneath his covers. What he said to Fran earlier was eating at his conscience. Demolishing him. Paining him. He was guilty and he had hurt her badly—he knew that. He'd also have to suffer the consequences, but he deserved whatever he was gonna get. Well, maybe not. One should always watch their words though, because you never know if that will be the last thing you will ever get to say to them.

'How could I have said those things to Miss Fine? God, I am so sorry. Please let her somehow forgive me. Where did she go earlier? Oh, I hope she'll speak to me tomorrow. The poor thing. Oh, Miss Fine... How could I have been so harsh to you? What kind of person am I? I'm a bloody cad that's what! This is all my fault. She probably cried herself to sleep. She's too good of a person to deserve this. Damn it, I knew this friends nonsense wouldn't last forever. What was I thinking? I have to go see her. I have to talk to her now. I have to make it up to her.'

Maxwell opened his eyes, halfway and leaned up on his elbows. With as much strength as he could administer, he pushed himself so that he sat up on his bed. His hazy eyes scanned the darkness of his room. Maxwell turned and stared at the red lights of his alarm clock. It shined 4:18 in the middle of the small, black box.

'I know it's really late... or early... or... I don't know... but I do know... that... I have to... I have to... talk... to her...'

His elbow slipped and he crashed back down to his bed. He tried to get back up again, but couldn't.

"I'll just talk to her in the morning," he yawned.

He was too worn-out, too lazy and too tired from working on his play earlier that he couldn't get up and go to her room. With his head on his 1000-thread count pillow and underneath some equally soft sheets, he quickly drifted into a deep sleep. Not even knowing, that Fran Fine never came home.

* * *

C.C. knocked, well banged actually, at the kitchen door of the Sheffield residence. She didn't want to take the front door, because she knew Maxwell would probably be in the living room and she really didn't feel like talking to him right now after he treated Fran yesterday. Of course she knew she had to help Maxwell out with the play, but right now, she just wanted to talk to Fran. She wanted to make sure she made it home all right. It was pouring cats and dogs outside and C.C. was getting drenched. She didn't even bring an umbrella, because she was too busy rushing to get a taxi. Her car was getting fixed in the shop for some engine thing. Of course today had to be the biggest downpour of the century and all she had on was a little navy blue raincoat that tied at the waist.

"The weather this week is real crappy. Where's the sunshine?" she said aloud to herself.

C.C. stood in front of the kitchen door, looking inside. Niles was in the kitchen making breakfast for the Sheffield's. Nothing was covering her head, so her short tresses got soaked to the root. Niles must not have heard her. She banged again. This time, it was more of an 'I'm-gonna-kill-someone-if-this-door-doesn't-open-in-5-seconds' kind of bang.

Niles put down the pan he was holding and turned around. He looked out the rain-smeared window and saw C.C. A smirk danced on his lips. Niles slowly walked over to the door and looked directly at C.C. He turned his head a couple times, pretending to be looking for someone, when C.C. was right in front of his face.

"Oh, it looks like no ones there. Oh well," he said and walked back to where he was cooking.

"Niles, If you don't open this door right this minute I am gonna shove that duster of yours right up your ass!" C.C. said loud enough so that Niles could clearly hear her in the kitchen.

Niles, apron on, rushed over to the door and took off his cooking mittens. He slowly turned the doorknob to reveal a dripping wet C.C. Her indigo jacket beaded with water, her tan pants spotted with it and her shoes wet and shiny from the spell of rain outside. He couldn't help but crack up in laughter. Oh she was a vision, and a bad one at that.

"Awww, we really need to get a doggy door, the poor puppy wuppy got left out in the rain," Niles joked. "Stay right there while I go get my camera. This time I am gonna get the perfect shot for my Christmas cards!"

"Hardy har har. Real funny Niles. I'm not in the mood, I have a hangover," C.C. grumbled as she stepped inside, getting puddles on the kitchen floor.

He eyed C.C.'s wet hair that was matted and hung in her face.

"And you know there's nothing I hate worse than a wet dog!" Niles declared.

"Oh, I bet there is," said C.C.

C.C. shook her head so that the droplets of water on her hair got all over Niles.

"Wet from the dog on you!" C.C. said and cackled.

Niles wiped the water off him.

"So you really gonna do that with my duster? I'd like to see you do it Babs! I know you won't!" said Niles.

"You better shut your mouth if you know what's good for you Butler Boy!" C.C. warned.

C.C. picked up his duster from the table and waved it in explanation, so that he would know that she meant business. She walked over to the island in the middle of the kitchen where Niles was getting the food ready. He took off his apron and was just in his traditional butler uniform.

"How come you came to the kitchen door? You like it better in the back than in the front?" Niles taunted.

C.C. knew it was probably some lame sexual joke of his.

"No, I mean, yes, I mean damn it, you domestic!" C.C. yelled in confusion and ran her fingers through her blonde hair.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, then laughed.

"I didn't want to see Maxwell right now, ok!" debated C.C. "What's that?" C.C. said, trying to end the awkward conversation and pointed to something wrapped in his front apron pocket.

"It's a candy bar, Sherlock!" Niles concluded and took it out to show her.

"You know you aren't supposed to be eating that stuff! I'm telling Maxwell!" C.C. said, sounding like a little girl tattle tailing.

"I was gonna have it, but I guess I'll just give it to you," said Niles and he handed her the candy bar.

"Why?" C.C. questioned and eyed him suspiciously.

"I don't want you to have to dress up like a ninny and beg for a lousy snickers bar when Halloween comes! It looks bad for Mr. Sheffield and I don't want Master to be embarrassed!" Niles joked, chuckling.

"Oh that's rich Niles!" C.C. said, unable to not laugh.

"Actually I gave it to you, because I pity you. After all, it's the only pleasure-you-can't-measure that you'll ever get!" Niles teases and chuckles.

"Good, well I wanted some chocolate Hazel!" C.C. said, taking a bite from her Milkway bar. "Anyways, have you seen Fran?" C.C. questioned.

"_Fran_? What happened to Nanny Fine?" Niles asked.

"Yes, _Fran_, we're good friends after we talked last night. She probably has a worse hangover than me. Go get her." C.C. ordered.

"All right Ca Ca." He disappeared up the stairs.

C.C. pulled out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table, eating her candy. Maxwell entered.

"Niles—oh, hi C.C. I didn't know you were here," said Maxwell. He was wearing a black with gray pinstripes suit. His gray streak was very visible today amongst his dark locks.

"Have you seen Miss Fine?" asked Maxwell. "I could've sworn she'd be down here, I guess she's still sleeping."

He rubbed his temple in frustration.

"No I haven't seen her Maxwell, I just got Niles to go get her," she said in a curt tone.

She was still mad at him for how he treated Fran.

"Before we start business, I need to talk to Miss Fine. I'm afraid I said some hurtful things to her last night. I need to apologize and make it up to her," Maxwell confessed.

"I know. She told me. You should feel really bad. She was crying and she started smoking because of what you said to her last night," said C.C. '

"Oh, God! I feel so bad. I said some very insensitive things to her. I was very cruel and I was a bloody cad!" He admitted, running his fingers through his dark hair.

"Your damn right," stated C.C.

Niles came down the stairs quickly.

"She's not there," said Niles, revealing the bad news.

"What do you mean she's not there?" asked Maxwell, worried.

"You mean she never got home last night?!" questioned C.C.

"No, her bed is fully made," confirmed Niles.

"I was with her! She... she just has to be here!" said C.C., alarmed and making finger motions.

"C'mon, everybody calm down. Don't tell the children anything yet. Maybe she's at her Mother's or Val's," suggested Niles. "We should eat and worry about this after breakfast. The food's ready now anyways."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but Niles is right," said C.C.

"All right, well then let's get the children," agreed Maxwell.

Maxwell, Niles and C.C. walked into the living room to get the kids. They were watching television.

"Breakfast is ready," announced Niles.

"Where's Fran, Daddy?" asked Gracie.

"She's... um, she went to her mother's sweetie," Maxwell said as a temporary excuse.

"Oh, I wanted to show her my picture, before I went to class, but I guess I'll just show her later," sighed Grace.

As Brighton reached for the reached for the remote, a Newsflash came on.

"Wait, Brighton, don't turn it off!" yelled Maggie grabbing the remote from her brother. "Something important must be coming on, if Three's Company is getting interrupted!"

"Oh, the suspense is killing me," said Brighton, sitting back against the couch.

Everyone payed attention as a female reporter, with short blonde hair permeated the screen.

Reporter: "We interrupt your previous program to bring you an important news bulletin."

The reporter was standing outside the mini-mart called "Quick N' Handy." Police were scattered about the store trying to look for clues in the background.

Reporter: "Early this morning, the actual time is not available at the moment, a convenient store robbery took place downtown. 'Quick N' Handy,' to be exact. No one was injured, but roughly 300 dollars was stolen and the masked bandit took along a "beautiful, but intoxicated woman as hostage," quotes the cashier. Police chased the car so many miles down the road, but the robber was quite a skilled speed driver and was able to escape pretty easily. There was also a heavy rainstorm. Here is the cashier of the mini-mart. Now sir, tell us about the woman taken hostage, the thief and what happen to you."

The reporter held the microphone to the cashier.

Cashier: "Well, this incredibly sexy woman came in to get some cigarettes and a lighter. She was the hostage. I could tell she was drunk by the way she stumbled to the register and she slurred her words. She paid for the stuff and then started to light up her cigarette in the store. I told her that the smoke alarms would go off and that she needed to do that outside, but she didn't listen. Then all of a sudden, this masked man came in and told everyone not to move and to get on the floor. Then, he went over to the register and demanded that I put the money in his bag, while he held the gun to my head. I was so afraid that he was gonna kill me. I stuffed in all the money from the register and he grabbed the bag. When he was walking out, he stopped and stared at the lady for a few seconds before grabbing her and dragging her out the door. He took her with him in a tinted, probably stolen car, and rode off. I think it was a corvette, but I'm not sure. It was all so traumatic!"

Reporter: "Can you give us a description of the man and the woman he took hostage?"

Cashier: "Well, the man had on a black ski mask with eyes and mouth holes. His hair stuck out from under the mask and it was a dark brown. His eyes were a piercing, deep blue. He wore a black trench coat-like jacket and his pants were black too. His clothes looked a little worn and old. I don't remember his shoes and he had gloves on."

Reporter: "And the woman?"

Cashier: "She had big hair. Dark, curly locks of it. Her eyes were brown too. She wore a black leather jacket and a short purple dress. Oh, and both the robber and the hostage had light skin. I can tell you that after this, there is no way I am doing the night/early morning shift again!"

"Oh, my God!" stated C.C. in monotone.

Everyone looked at her.

"What C.C.?" asked Maxwell.

"Don't you all get it? The description... everything. It's... It's... IT'S FRAN!" wailed C.C.

"Maybe, maybe it's not Fran," said an optimistic Brighton.

"No, no... it's Fran. I just... I just know it!" said C.C.

"I thought you said Fran was at her mother's house Daddy!" said a worried Gracie.

"I... I didn't wanna tell you... that she wasn't home this morning," confessed Maxwell. "I really didn't know myself."

"FRAN!" whimpered the kids.

"Miss Fine," Maxwell whispered to himself in sorrow.

"IT'S ALL MY FAULT! I SHOULD HAVE PRESSURED HER TO GET IN THE TAXI WITH ME! SHE HAD TO GO AND GET THOSE DAMN CIGARETTES!" C.C. cried.

"It's not your fault C.C. It's mine. I'm the one who made her leave," admitted Maxwell.

"It's no one's fault. It's fate's," said Niles. "Oh Miss Fine, I hope your all right. Please be all right for the sake of this family..." Niles said softly.

"What if something happened to her?" said a worried Brighton.

Gracie cried and her father went over to comfort her. He hugged her tightly.

"Fran's strong. She might be able to fight him," Maggie hoped.

C.C. didn't want to disappoint the girl. She knew that Fran probably passed out as soon as she got in the car, giving the captor the ability to be in control of an unconscious person.

"We have to call her parents, or Val or whoever so they know about this!" said Gracie.

"I just remembered that they are in Florida, Grace and I don't know the number," said C.C. "She told me last night."

Reporter: "Thank you for tuning in and if anyone has information about this robbery or the kidnapping please call this number. We will have updates on this mysterious kidnapping and robbery when it becomes available."

A number flashed on the screen for a minute and C.C. copied it down on a notepad near the phone.

Reporter: "Now, back to your previous program."

The Three's Company tune played on the T.V., but no one was listening. All they could think about was where their beloved nanny was and if she was okay. Out of everyone, Maxwell was hurting the most, because of what he said to her and he did not want those to be the last words she ever heard from him.

C.C. wiped away a tear and frantically dialed the number.

"Hi, I know the name of the hostage of the convenient store robbery this morning. Her name is... Fran Fine," C.C. spoke into the phone, her voice quivering.


	5. Cops and Robbers

**Chapter 5: Cops and Robbers**

Fran fluttered her eyes. She felt so weak and her head was throbbing painfully. She opened her eyes, but everything was in a haze. She was facing towards the back of a couch, lying on her stomach. The couch was old, with faded cranberry flowers against the dark blue background. She had her hand resting on the sofa and it felt stiff. Black mascara was smeared around her eyes and they were black.

"Where... where am I?" she said, vaguely. "Is this the Sheffield couch?"

Her legs itched against the scratchy, starchy sheets. An old, torn, quilted cover with colorful patterns was on top of the sheets. She pulled them back and discovered that she was still in the dress she wore yesterday.

"Did I fall asleep on the couch?" she yawned.

Fran pulled her hand back onto her pillow and pushed herself up. She brushed her disheveled long, brunette curls out of her face. Fran wiped her eyes, so that she would be able to focus better. When she did however, she realized that she was not in the Sheffield house.

"Oh my, Oh my God! Where am I?" she shrieked and looked around the room.

Wherever she was, it was a very old place. Paisley wallpaper was halfway peeled off the walls, revealing a once white, but now stained yellow wall and the drywall was cracking. Silvery cobwebs glistened in the corners, the silken strands waving gently. There was only one small, four-paned window that was on the high upper side of the wall on the other side of the small room. It was pretty fogged up so only a tiny stream of the afternoon sunlight beamed through. The whole room had a dark and unnerving atmosphere. The floors were hardwood, scuffed up, dusty and blackened. On one side of the room, were some hard, black suitcases and a beige cloth bag beside it. A couple of bills hung out of one of the closed suitcases. There was also a small television in the room. One of those old-fashioned ones with the antennas and the turn knobs. It was on and the screen was fuzzy. The back of a discolored plaid armchair was facing her. All of a sudden a loud snore brought her to her senses. It made her spine tingle. _Someone else was in the room. Sitting in that armchair._ All she could remember was leaving the bar last night and she didn't remember anything after that. Waking up here was so weird and scary.

'Did I get so drunk that I went home with somebody? No, no, C.C. was there. She wouldn't have let that happen..."

She grabbed a lamp on a nearby table and held it tightly in her hands like if it was a bat. She walked gingerly, one foot in front of the other, towards the sleeping man in the chair. Fran was directly in front of him. The man was in his mid-forties. He had ghostly-white skin, like a person who hasn't been out in the sunlight much. His hair was black and disheveled and his slight beard gave him a scruffy look. A gash was on his forehead. He was pretty tall, although it was hard to tell with him sitting down. He was wearing a black shirt that had tiny holes around the collar. His pants were black jeans and his boots were dirty. He was slightly overweight, but some muscles could be seen through his t-shirt. The sight of him frightened Fran, not just because he was probably dangerous, but because he might end up being her murderer. The guy looked like he could kill; he had that edge about him. And just a little table lamp could only cut him and bruise him and maybe if she was lucky—knock him out cold. But maybe he didn't kidnap her or want to kill her—nah, why else would she be here in this strange house? There had to be some explanation and to find that out, she had to wake the _stranger_.

'Maybe I shouldn't wake him; I should try to find a way out first.'

She tiptoed across the room to a door—not wanting to wake the man. She tried the knob, but it was locked. There was a key slot at the bottom. The only other exit would be the window. She set the lamp back down and went towards the window. Fran lifted her hands towards the metal handle at the bottom of it, but it wouldn't budge. She persisted, until finally it lifted only about an inch and then got stuck again. It was high up and she needed to be a lot taller, either that or needed a ladder. So she pushed the hard black suitcases over to the window and stacked them up on top of each other. Fran then got on top of the suitcases so that she was just as tall as the window. She lifted up on the handle and was able to push the window up even further. But just as she tried to raise it again, her foot slipped of the slick suitcase surface and she came crashing down to the floor. A loud, scared, painful shriek came from her throat as she tumbled down. It was just loud enough to wake the man sleeping and anyone else, if there was anyone else of course, in the house. The creepy man rose from his sleep and slowly walked over to her, a dour look on his face.

* * *

C.C. nervously waited to be directed to the detective in charge of the case. All the Sheffield's, including Niles, were anxious. A man with a low, southern voice came from the receiver. 

"Hi ma'am I am Hudson Taylor, one of the detectives working on this case. We know what the hostage looks like, but are you able to give us any additional information. As in, your name, her name again, if you know what she did the night before and any information you could possibly have about the masked man," the detective said.

"My name is C.C. Babcock and I am a friend of hers. The hostage, Fran Fine, is about 5'5," in her early 30's and is Jewish. She is the Nanny for the children of my employer, Maxwell Sheffield. I am his business partner in Sheffield-Babcock Productions. I was with her the night just before the robbery. She was at the bar the same time I was there. She was drunk and I asked her if she wanted to get a taxi with me. She said no, because she wanted to get some cigarettes. I am guessing she went to 'Quick N' Handy,' where the robbery took place, as it was close by there. The bar we were at was called, 'Mickey's.' Fran's best friend and parents are in Florida, just so you know. I don't know anything about the robber," C.C. responded.

"Was there a shady looking character at the bar, someone watching you perhaps? Anyone that could have possibly been the kidnapper?" Hudson Taylor questioned.

"Not that I know of and I was at the bar even before she was. We left at the same time." C.C. explained.

"Thank you for the clues you have generously provided Miss. Ok, I would like for you to bring yourself and Mr. Maxwell Sheffield down to the station. We have a videotape of the robbery from the convenient store and would like to show it to you, so that we can confirm that the hostage is indeed Fran Fine. If you have a recent photograph of her, please bring that too," he said.

"All right, we will be there in a few minutes," confirmed C.C.

"Good day ma'am," he ended.

"Goodbye," said C.C.

C.C. turned off the phone and looked at Maxwell.

"You and I need to go down to the police station to identify her. Niles can stay here and watch the children." C.C. announced.

"You mean she's dead and we have to identify her body?!" He panicked.

'She can't be dead. No, no. It's not—'

C.C. interrupted his imaginative thoughts.

"Calm down! She's not dead. We have to identify her on avideotape that they have of the robbery to make sure that it's her. I'm sure it is though. C'mon, we have to hurry." C.C. explained.

"Ok," agreed Maxwell.

'Thank God! Don't take away my Fran.'

"We need a picture of her," said C.C.

"Ok, I'll get one," suggested Maxwell.

He threw her his keys.

"Go start my car while I get it," he ordered.

C.C. put on her jacket and went out the door, while Maxwell went into his office to get a picture of her. He had one of her in his drawer that he liked to look at a lot. Fran had made him take a picture of her that day on vacation. She was wearing a lacy pink dress and looked very beautiful. Maxwell traced the picture with his finger. He put the picture in the big pocket of his trench coat, walked out of his office and left the house.

"I hope she's okay," pleaded Brighton.

"Me too," added Maggie, wiping away her tears with her hand.

Gracie was sitting on the couch, her head in her hands and crying heavily.

"It will be okay, Miss Grace. Miss Fine will be all right." Niles assured her, rubbing her shoulders.

'God, I hope she's all right.'

* * *

Fran laid on the floor, her arms cut and bruised from the fall. The scary man was standing over her. 

"Trying to escape, are we? Think you're pretty smart?" the man hissed, sounding like a snake.

Another man suddenly rushed through a door that Fran had thought was a closet, but really wasn't.

"What the hell was that noise? Jack! I didn't ask you to hurt her!" the other man yelled, eying Fran's injuries.

His voice was deep and throaty. This man was dressed in a worn black suit and had blonde hair.

"I didn't Mike! She fell! I'm serious!" the dark-haired man protested.

"Whatever you Goon! If you don't be nice, I'm not going to let you use her," the blonde man argued.

"Use me?" Fran shrieked. "I hope you don't mean—"

"Oh calm down lady, I don't mean it like that," Mike said.

"I hope you're not going to kill me!" Fran said, scared to death.

"Look, we are not going to kill you. Mike kidnapped you, because he wanted to help me out with my work," Jack explained.

"And what work would that be?" Fran questioned, twisting a lock of hair around her finger.

"He's an artist," Mike revealed.

"Did you take me from my house or was I somewhere else?" Fran asked, wanting to know what had happened to her.

"You were in the convenient store I robbed early this morning," said Mike.

"So what do you need me for, exactly? If it's money, my employer can pay you," Fran offered.

"We don't need money; we get all that from robberies. We need you for a piece of work that Jack is working on. All you have to do is sit and J. will paint a picture of you and that's it," Mike explained. "He's trying to enter his work in an art exhibit and all he needs is a portrait of someone. That's why I kidnapped you; we needed someone for his painting and you seemed like a pretty girl. Jack is kind of a starving artist. He doesn't get that much pay for his work. I don't have much money either and I can't get a job, because I am a convict on the run."

"Convict? On the run? You killed somebody?" a curious Fran asked.

"See, it's not like that. My brother was a serial killer and he conveniently framed _me_ for all _his_ crimes. Since the 'evidence' was so clearly there, I was charged. I have to lay low or I'll get put in the nearest jail available for felonies I never even committed! My brother died years ago, so at least he's not on the loose. Along with some innocent people, he killed my mother and father too. He tried to take my life, but was unsuccessful. Of course, if it was ever found out that it was me robbing the stores, that wouldn't look too good on my criminal record," Mike confessed.

"I'm sorry that all that had to happen to you. I'm also surprised you would tell me all this. After all, I could rat you out someday. Of course I wouldn't," Fran said.

"That's the beauty of it my dear—you can't! My name isn't really Mike and you will never know the location of this shack, because you will be blindfolded to and from it," Mike concluded.

"Well, it doesn't matter. Take your time with me, I don't wanna go home anyways," Fran said and sighed. "I don't even remember being at a convenient store last night, but I guess that explains these cigarettes in my pocket!" Fran said, after taking out her pack of cigarettes. "I can clearly remember what my employer said to me though."

"He fired you?" questioned Mike.

"I wish," said Fran.

She offered them both a cigarette and they both took one and lit it up with her lighter. Fran also lit one up herself.

"Just, because we are being nice to you now, it doesn't mean we really are nice guys," Jack firmly stated, blowing out smoke.

"Yeah, in a few minutes me and Jack gotta tie you up." Then after her look, "What? We can't have you all walking around! We don't trust you, like you don't trust us. You'll try to escape. Me and J. have to rob a bank later, so we won't be here. And there is no way you are coming with us..." Mike said, giving her an odd glance.

"Now, let's clean up your wounds and bandage that," Jack said, pointing to her arm and helping her off of the floor.

* * *

C.C. and Maxwell went into the police station. They were directed to a back room where an investigator was waiting to show them the videotape. 

"C.C. Babcock and Maxwell Sheffield?" the police officer questioned.

They nodded and sat down on the chairs in the office.

"I thank you both for coming. Detective Taylor was on call, so unfortunately he had to leave. My name is Lieutenant Jeremy Briggs. I am also head in this case, so I will still be able to help you," the man said, standing up behind his desk.

I will show you this video and you tell me for sure if the woman taken was Fran Fine. The camera can't get up real close, but you will be able to see the faces. Well, hers at least, because the robber has on a ski mask," the law enforcer explained.

He put in the video.

"Yes, that's her," C.C. and Maxwell said in unison, just as they saw Fran walk into the store on the tape.

"That was exactly what she was wearing when I was with her," C.C. recalled.

Maxwell stopped breathing when he saw the man take Fran away.

'What would he do to her? Would he kill her? He could never live with himself if something really did happen to her.'

"I want FBI all over the country; I don't care how much it costs! WE WILL FIND HER!" Maxwell declared.

'No matter what it takes!'

* * *

A/N: Just so you all know, this is gonna have a lot more chapters. I have already thought out what's going to happen later on and it will definitely be a lot better than the earlier chapters. Probably because there will be more going on and such. I will try my best to incorporate in all the characters throughout the story. I will also be adding a few new characters and already have, naturally, but future characters will have bigger roles. Basically, this story has barely even begun and I have a lot more to tell! 

PLEASE REVIEW AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! Seriously, I'd love to hear what you have to say. Suggestions, comments, improvements, whatever! Just tell me. Thank you to those that have reviewed so far and Good Day to you all!


	6. When We Meet Again

**Chapter 6: When We Meet Again**

It was one of those days in October, when the wind was so cruel. It was also, however, one of those beautiful days when the wonders of autumn were so clearly shown in the colorful leaves brightening the trees. In a small shack, some miles down some winding rustic road, a feisty brunette and two hardcore criminals argued.

"What do you mean I can't come?" Fran questioned, throwing a temper tantrum.

The scruffy, dark-haired man tried to bandage her wounds.

"Lady, there is no way you are participating in this bank robbery. It's dangerous business! You—well, you are on missing person alert all over the city! What would it look like with you all showing up at a bank and all?" Mike replied.

"Oh, and you with your 'Oh, my brother did all the crimes, but I gotta lay low, but I'm gonna go rob some banks' bumbo jumbo! What's up with that?" Fran said, changing her voice and trying to imitate his heavy Brooklyn accent.

"You know you're a loud one! With a hell of an attitude! Damn, if only I knew that before I kidnapped you... No, you were so drunk and quiet, I didn't get any complainin' outta you! You were out the second you got in my car," said Mike, annoyed.

"I don't know why I can't go!" she said, sounding like Maggie when she would try to go to some crazy college party.

"We only rob the banks every once in a while, because of the action of it all. The suspense and the rush is why we do it. Our poor, boring lives gasp for bank robberies like a suffocating person for air! All the security guards and the violence and the police chases—" Mike said, but was interrupted by Fran.

"So you do kill then?" Fran questioned.

"Not if I don't need to and if I do use a gun, I usually shoot in a spot that would only injure them. I have been shot at before and Jack here used to be a registered nurse, so he was able help me," Mike explained.

Jack finishes tending to her wounds and walks off.

"Where is he going?" Fran asked.

"To get you some food. You didn't think we weren't going to feed you did you?"

"I don't know. Just... something that, uh, happened when I was very young... kinda made me wonder..." her voice cracked off, in horrifying memory.

She shifted her eyes down and tried not to look at him.

"Really... Tell me about it," said a curious Mike.

"I'd, um, I'd rather not... It's... it's rather painful. Or, at least it was... I got over it pretty quick, but sometimes I still remember what happened..." said Fran.

"We will treat you good here, trust me. I know that's hard, but please just try to trust me," he said.

"I'll try," Fran responded.

Jack comes back with some food and drinks.

"Today's special: yellow rice!" said Jack, handing them some paper plates filled with a little bit of food and some plastic cups filled with some kind of beverage.

"Oh, how appetizing!" Fran said, sarcastically. "You expect me to eat just that little bit of nothing?"

They all took bites of the food.

"What about us? We are men and all we get is this much to eat! We get hungry all the time. At least you don't have to get used to this!" argued Mike.

"You know, it's not such a good idea to leave me here all alone..." Fran warned, looking around.

"And why might that be?" Jack questioned, stirring his food around with his fork.

"How do you know that I'm not gonna go all Houdini on you and get out of those ropes? I mean I could have escaped if I hadn't of fallen. Maybe next time I'll find something sturdier and less slippery," said Fran.

"She's got a point Mike..." said Jack, gulping down his soda.

"Fine... ok fine... but you better not mess this up!" agreed Mike.

"I won't," she promised after taking her last bite of rice and taking a sip from her drink.

"I always wondered what it felt like to be on the side with the gun and the mask," said Fran.

"It's something you never hope to experience. I can tell you that, because once you do—there's no turning back! Life doesn't always turn out all cozy and comfortable—with white picket fences and happy families and love that's like some damn fairy tale. It's the troubled people like us that rob the banks and kill and hurt and deceive," Mike said, coldly with dark eyes.

"I know. I definitely know," related Fran.

There was an awkward silence.

"Well I'd still like to see how you are going to rob the bank... and by the way, I'd really love a bath. Do you have some kind of bathroom in this joint?" said Fran.

"Down the hall, to the left," Mike answered.

"There are some clothes in bedroom next to the bathroom too. I guess maybe it was the man who lived here's. You can put those on if you'd like. Pick out something black, because that's best for a robbery," added Jack.

"What man?" Fran questioned.

"Some old man that lives here. He went on vacation or something. That's why we have to leave here soon and go somewhere else," he explained.

"So we are leaving and I have to wear some old guy's clothes?" Fran asked, annoyed.

"Pretty much," said Mike.

"Just lovely," Fran mumbled.

Fran walked down the hall and entered the bathroom. She scanned the room. It was so empty and dirty like the other ones in the house. Soap scum lined the shower doors and the tile was filthy dirty. She went over to the bathtub and turned on the water. Fran grimaced as she felt the stream of lukewarm water flowing into the old porcelain tub. She was expecting nice, hot, steaming water to soak in and was terribly disappointed. Fran was already shivering as it was.

As she started to take off her clothes she noticed something was in her inside jacket pocket. She reached back and grabbed whatever it was out. It was her wallet! No wonder she couldn't find it! She left it in her jacket! She checked it and it still had everything in there, including some money. Fran was happy that she had it with her, because she didn't want to go back to the Sheffield home anytime soon.

Fran bathed in the tub and washed her hair. After wiping the soap out her eyes, she rinsed out her hair and got out of the tub to dry off. Fran walked out of the bathroom in a towel and went into one of the bedrooms. This bedroom had ivy green walls and an old, beige Persian rug on the floor. Fran went over to the other side of the iron bed and sat on it. Since the dresser was right next to it, she sat down and rummaged through the drawers. She found a black t-shirt and some black sweatpants and put those on. Fran walked out and met in the living room where Mike and Jack were.

"Are you ready to go?" asked Mike, slipping a gun in his jacket.

"Yes, but do you really have to bring that?" said Fran, pointing to his gun.

"Do you really think people take Mike seriously if he _doesn't_ have a gun?" asked Jake.

"I suppose your right. Just, don't hurt anyone if you don't have to," requested Fran as she put on her jacket.

"Look, I won't," agreed Mike.

"Who's the getaway driver? Me?" questioned Fran.

"Guess again. Do you think I'd let you be the getaway driver? You'd be the _getaway _getaway driver! Jack is going to be. You get to come inside the bank and watch," clarified Mike.

"All right," said Fran.

"Ok, let's go!" said Jack, grabbing a blindfold and covering it over Fran's eyes.

"What? What are you doing?" asked an anxious Fran.

"You have to be blindfolded so that you don't know the location of this place and when we get far enough away I'll take it off," explained Jack.

"Whatever," answered Fran.

Mike grabbed a bag and Jack led Fran out the door. They got in the car and went off towards the bank. It was a long ride, so Fran took a short nap on the back seat.

* * *

Fran awoke to someone shaking her. Her blindfold was off and she could see now. Mike and Fran got out of the car while Jack waited inside. It had stopped raining outside, but the ground was still wet and it was starting to get dark. 

"You know, I could have just given you some money..." offered Fran. "Instead of going to all this trouble."

"Like I said, I do this for the excitement not the green," declared Mike. "C'mon let's go! You stay near the door and make sure no one leaves."

"Fair enough," said Fran.

Mike put on his mask and Fran and him went into the Manhattan Bank. Mike did the whole 'This is a holdup!' stuff and the people got on the floor in terror. Fran stayed close to the door and looked around and who did she see? None other than Maxwell Sheffield—his self! There he was on the floor like all the other people. He looked pretty stressed out. His nice dark hair was all disheveled and his emerald green tie was hanging loosely off his neck atop his black pinstriped suit. He looked so... _sad_.

'Damn it! Out of all the banks in New York! It had to be where Mr. Sheffield is at!' Fran thought.

She leaned up against the pillar in the big bank and hoped to God that he didn't see her.

Maxwell turned towards the entrance of the bank and he couldn't believe his eyes, it was Fran! She was with her kidnapper and they were robbing the bank. She looked over at him, but didn't say anything. She just leaned up against column in the big bank and waited while Mike got the money from up front.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him get up off the floor and walk over to her. He was only a few inches away from her, but she kept her eyes straight. He was so close that she could feel his hot breath. Quickly, he grabbed her face and collided his lips with hers, consuming her mouth. She tried to move her head away, but his grip was too strong. When, she was finally free, she spoke to him.

"What the heck are you doing? Do you want to get shot? He _will_ shoot you! And don't you dare kiss me after all that you have done!" Fran complained.

"Fran! It's... it's really you! I can't believe it!" he said, unbelievingly.

_You're not a stranger to me  
And you are something to see  
You don't even know how to please  
You say a lot but you're unaware how to leave_

He gave her a loving hug, but she didn't really except it.

"Oh, how I've missed you so," said Maxwell, gently.

_My darling lives in a world that is not mine  
An old child misunderstood out of time  
Timeless is the creature who is wise  
And timeless is the prisoner in disguise_

He held his hand on her cheek and gazed into her mystifying brown eyes. She abruptly pushed his hand off.

"I haven't even been gone barely a day," Fran said, looking towards the big window in the bank.

Anywhere, but at him.

"But it seemed like forever," said Maxwell.

_Oh who is the beauty who is the beast  
Would you die of grieving when I leave  
Two children too blind to see  
I would fall in your shadow I believe  
_

He saw the deep sadness in her eyes.

"I'm sorry Fran, for everything... I never meant to hurt you," he whispered into her ear, compassionately.

When he retreated his head back, his moist lips grazed her neck.

"That's not what you said. Stop lying to yourself and to me. It all just leads to a dead end and we both know that!" Fran argued, still in a bit of a daze from his touch.

_My love is a man who's not been tamed  
Oh my love lives in a world of false pleasure and pain  
We come from different worlds we are the same my love  
I never doubted your beauty I've changed  
I never doubted your beauty I've changed_

"I... I'm not..." Maxwell protested.

"Right. Then tell me how you really feel about me Mr. Sheffield," ordered Fran, firmly.

"I... I...," he stuttered.

"Exactly!" Fran concluded and started to walk off.

_Changed who is the beauty  
Where is my beast (my love)  
There is no beauty  
Without my beast (my love)  
  
Who is the beauty  
Who my love  
Ahhh  
Oh la bete la bete  
Where is my beast  
  
My beauty my beauty  
My beautiful beautiful beautiful  
Beautiful beast_

'I will always love you even if you never love me,' thought Fran, staring at him deeply as if she could telepathically tell him that.

He grabbed her arm, but she pulled it off. Mike was waiting by the entrance with the money and was waiting for her so that they could go.

"Hurry up, we gotta get out of here!" warned Mike, running out the front door and dragging Fran along with him.

"Wait—" yelled Maxwell, but Fran had already been pulled out the door, her curls blowing in the wind behind her.

He looked out the bank window and watched as the car sped away. Once again, he regretted not telling her that he loved her. People were scattered out on the floor, the alarm was ringing loudly and some money had fallen on the ground. The police soon rushed in, but all Maxwell did was stand there motionless at the window with his hand on the glass. Wondering if he would ever see her again.

* * *

My apologies that this was late and all—well, later than I wanted it to be anyways. I was in New York City for the weekend and this chapter wasn't finished so I didn't get to work on it and then I had night school and regular school and wow it was overwhelming... But I finally got it done! : ) 

-The italics are a song from Stevie Nicks and the song is called "Beauty and the Beast"-


	7. Telling Sylvia

**Chapter 7: Telling Sylvia**

It had been a week now since the robbery, Fran had not been found and her whereabouts were unknown.

Maxwell got up from his swivel chair after a hard day's work. He had worked into nighttime again—anything to keep his mind off of Fran not being there. Maxwell buttoned his suit jacket and then walked outside the French doors from his office. As he stepped out, his shoes crackled the fallen leaves on the brick patio. He stood there and gazed out at the sky from the little outdoor garden. It was quite a dazzling night sky. Each little star twinkled against the eternal blackness. He never really took the time to really examine the world around him. He wished Fran was there with him, so that they could examine the beautiful heavens above together.

"Are you looking up at this same sky, Fran?" he said looking up with wet eyes.

He tried to smile.

"I really miss you you know," Maxwell said.

Maxwell had his arm on the brick wall and leaned his head on his hand. He stood there for a few moments just experiencing the wonderful night air and the dark, sparkling sky above.

A shooting star passed by Maxwell overhead and he made a wish—a wish that Fran would come back to him.

He decided it was time to go in when he felt the cold air forming Goosebumps on his skin. Max slowly opened the doors and walked back inside his house to go to bed.

* * *

The next morning, everyone was in the living room waiting to find out more information about the case and if Fran was located anywhere else since the recent bank robbery. Maxwell was just about to call the detective to ask him to come over when there was a knock at the door. Niles went to go to answer it. 

"Hello everyone!" greeted Sylvia, who had just walked in through the door.

The Sheffield's, Niles and Miss Babcock all stood there with sinister looks on there faces, they didn't say anything and just stared at her as if they she was from outer space. Gracie ruffled the bottom trim of her dress and looked down at her feet.

"Wow, you guys sure are the welcome wagon! What kind of greeting was that?" said Sylvia.

"Oh, sorry Sylvia—" apologized Maxwell.

"Yeah..." said everyone else.

"Where's Frannie?" she questioned in a cheerful mood. "I wanna tell her all about Florida!"

"Um... well, you see Sylvia she's not here..." explained Maxwell

"I'll just wait here till she gets back then," decided Sylvia, taking off her flashy jacket and handing it to Niles.

Niles took it and put it away in the coat closet.

"We aren't exactly sure when she will be back you see," Max admitted.

"Oh, she went to the mall then? Yeah, I suppose she'll be a while then. Niles could you be a dear and whip me up one of your specialties? Those hotel cooks in Florida were nice, but they just can't top your food Niles!" said Sylvia.

"Of course Mrs. Fine," replied Niles and he left the room.

"See Sylvia, Fran... well she's not on a shopping trip," confessed Maxwell.

"Well then where is she then?" asked Sylvia.

"We aren't sure," said Max, honestly, running his hand through his hair.

"What do you mean you aren't sure? Mr. Sheffield please don't joke when my daughter is concerned. Stop beating around the bush and cut to the chase already!" Sylvia complained.

"As hard as it is for me to tell you this, while you were gone... Fran was—Fran was... kidnapped!" Maxwell revealed, upset with the truth of it all.

Sylvia paused for a minute as if she couldn't believe what he just said.

"No... No—it can't be... no, no—I can't go through that again!" cried Sylvia, holding her chest and almost fainting.

Maggie prevented her from falling and helped her over to the couch and they sat down. Sylvia put her arm on the armrest and covered her eyes with her hand.

"Go through what again Sylvia?" asked Maxwell, worried.

No one in the room was prepared for what Sylvia had to say next.

"_This isn't the first time she's been kidnapped..." _


	8. The Virgil Shelton Slayings

**Chapter 8: The Virgil Shelton Slayings**

"Fran... was kidnapped before?" Maxwell tried hard to digest the words, gulping it all down.

He felt like he was going to faint as much as Sylvia.

'How come she never told us? That had to have been so painful for her. Something... so frightening... how could she go through that?... and still be who she is today... I wish she told me... I wish I would have known...' thought Maxwell.

Niles had just walked in and heard about the past kidnapping of Fran. He stood there with his mouth open in awe.

"Niles forget the food, I'm not really much hungry anymore," requested Sylvia in a voice so unlike her own.

"Of course Mrs. Fine," said Niles, starting to walk the tray back to the kitchen.

"Niles maybe you should call the police station too, Sylvia's information may be useful," suggested Maxwell.

"Of course," said Niles and he left to make the call and get rid of the tray of food.

"Fran never told us before..." said Gracie, hurt.

"Yeah, Fran never even slightly mentioned anything like that," added Brighton, twisting his New York Knicks cap around his head.

"You think she would have told us," said a confused Maggie.

"She never even told me much of what happened. I think it was because it was the most frightening experience for her. It was obvious that she barely slept while she was there. Probably wondering if she was going to be killed in her sleep... She was only 13 years old! Just a little girl, my little girl!" said Sylvia, very emotional and in tears.

Maxwell gave Sylvia a loving hug.

"Let's wait in my office Sylvia until the police get here," said Maxwell, leading Sylvia out of the living room. "Maggie, I'm trusting you to watch Brighton and Gracie."

"Ok Dad," responded Maggie.

"C'mon Brighton, Gracie. Let's watch a movie," suggested Maggie.

They all walked over to the couch and turned on the TV. Niles and Miss Babcock went to Mr. Sheffield's office to wait for the police.

"I really miss Fran," said Gracie, sobbing.

"I know, we all do," said Maggie, hugging her sister.

"Hey what about me?" teased Brighton.

"Come here, you!" ordered Maggie, laughing a little and then tearing a bit.

They got into a group hug just when there was a knock at the door. Maggie pulled away from her siblings and went to go answer it. It was Hudson Taylor and Jeremy Briggs.

"Hello, we're here to see a Max—"Hudson started to say, but was interrupted by Maggie.

"I know. They're in the office, it's that way," said Maggie, pointing towards the office.

"Thank you Miss," said a grateful Jeremy, tipping his hat.

The two cops pushed open the oak office door. Maxwell was sitting next to Sylvia on the green loveseat with his arm around her and everyone else was standing.

"Hello," greeted the two gentlemen.

"Greetings officers," said Maxwell.

"Hi," said Niles and C.C. in unison.

"We are going to tell you now, upfront, that we have had no further leads to this case. We, however, are not giving up hope!" declared Lieutenant Briggs.

"And who might this be?" asked Detective Hudson, indicating Sylvia.

"This is Fran's mother," explained Maxwell. "We told her the latest information and she may have some clues for you that might help you both in the case. She says Fran has been kidnapped before."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," said Hudson, putting out his hand.

Sylvia shook Hudson's hand and then hit Niles on the arm, pointing to the tissue box across the room. Niles went over and grabbed the box and gave it to Sylvia. She sat it on her lap and took out a tissue, wiping her wet eyes and then blowing her nose.

"Really... how interesting. It's bad enough to have to be kidnapped at all, but twice! When did Miss Fine get kidnapped?" said Jeremy taking out a notepad and pen to copy down information.

"October 2, 1976," said Sylvia, quickly as if she had the date permanently stamped in her mind.

"Strange that she got kidnapped around the same time of year again," commented Jeremy.

"And how old was she?" questioned Hudson.

"Thirteen," replied Sylvia. "She had just turned thirteen less than a month ago."

"Hmm, there does seem to always be a lot of kidnappings around that particular age group for some reason," said Jeremy. "Of course her current kidnapping is not the case."

"That kidnapping... that was around the same time as the Serial Killings of 1976. Did her disappearance have anything to do with the Virgil Shelton Slayings whatsoever? If so, this could be very vital information," said Hudson, intrigued.

"Fran was victim number thirty-six... the only one out of the thirty-seven victims that he didn't kill," said Sylvia in a soft, scared tone.

"Thirty-seven!" exclaimed Maxwell, wide-eyed.

"Yup," said Jeremy. "Thirty-seven victims in all! The first two he killed I believe were his mother and father. All in all, thirty-five he killed before Fran and then the last life he took was his own brother. Fran was lucky!"

"Well, I wouldn't exactly say that..." said Sylvia annoyed.

"Well, of course. I meant lucky that she _survived_. Lucky that Virgil Shelton didn't murder her..." said Jeremy, saving himself.

"The Virgil Shelton Slayings?" questioned Maxell, frightened. "That doesn't sound good."

"Oh, it wasn't, my father worked on that case. Virgil Shelton had this hideout that no one could ever find and he just kept killing people," explained Hudson Taylor.

"You weren't in America when this was going on Maxwell. A young man named Virgil Shelton killed 36 people including his mother, father and his twin brother. Some people he kidnapped and then killed and others he just shot or stabbed right then in there. He was a crazy, manic psycho killer. It terrified people for months just to go out of their house. I remember being a young girl and we were always told to watch out for him," briefed C.C.

"There was only one girl that was left. That must have been Fran Fine. She was found having some signs of physical abuse. She also had some minor injuries and was malnourished. Sometimes he would tie her up and then other times he'd let her walk around, but she was always locked inside the house I was told," said Hudson, recalling what his father had said.

"Yes, that's all correct. That was Frannie," said Sylvia gravely.

"Sylvia what happened to her? How did she survive?" asked Maxwell, even though he wasn't really sure he wanted to know.

"Well, you don't really have much hope when your daughter's life is in the hands of a serial killer. Especially when he killed 35 people before her," said Sylvia, truthfully.

"She was found bounded to a wooden chair with heavy rope and duct tape. The chair was tipped over on the ground. Fran had managed to get one wrist loose. She was unconscious at the time," said Sylvia, crying now. "I think his brother tried to help her before he died."

Maxwell had deep empathy for Sylvia and had let her lean her head on his shoulder. She cried heavily now and left tear stains on his shirt. Maxwell was really hurting on the inside. It was paining him to know about what happened to Fran and he wanted to kill the man that hurt her.

"The old house that she was at was in such a strange location. Someone had anonymously told the police the address and we think it was the killer. Like he felt guilty or something. It had to have been him, because he was the only one who could have really known about it. Unless it was the brother that he killed. Maybe he called before he was shot," explained Sylvia.

"Okay this is all good information," complimented Jeremy, after viewing his notepad. "All we need to know now is about before she was kidnapped. What happened that day Mrs. Fine?"

"It was a beautiful October day..." started Sylvia, going into a flashback mode. "It was a little windy outside; the nice October air was refreshing after the hot summer. It was a sunny day, little clouds. Fran and I were going shopping for some school clothes. She had picked out some things and I held on to the bags. Fran had met up with Val and I said that they could hang out for a little bit while I looked in some other stores. I had told them to meet me in this certain spot at around 6 o'clock. But when I went there... they weren't there!"

Sylvia burst into tears and started to break down.

"I went looking everywhere, but I could not find them. I finally when to an information department in the mall and told them to ask for them on the intercom. I knew Fran would be mad and embarrassed at me for doing that, but I just had this bad feeling in my gut that something was wrong. And I knew it wasn't the leftover lasagna I ate for lunch! So I waited by there and I finally saw Val walking over. She was in tears and was crying hysterically. I asked her what was wrong and she said that some man had gotten Fran. While they were at the arcade that he had just grabbed her up! Then there was another man that Val was with along with a policeman. The man, not the policeman, told me that he tried to save my daughter. He had fought him, but the man that kidnapped my daughter had a knife and had stabbed him. He had a bandana tied around his arm and was bleeding. Val said she tried to make a scene by yelling and screaming and that had gotten a lot of people's attention. The man was too quick and had got off though. Val told me that Fran looked a little afraid, but more angry. I was so worried and upset I didn't know what to do. The policeman told me that he knew who the man was. He told me it was Virgil Shelton, the serial killer. I knew that he had already killed a lot of people and I was afraid Fran would be the next statistic. It was so horrible... for weeks Fran was gone... I really believed sometimes that she was dead... it hurt so much... there was so slim a percent of a chance that she would be alive. I tried to have faith in that percentage and I finally got Fran back..." revealed Sylvia.

"They never found Virgil Shelton to this day. I'm scared that he's out there somewhere!" whined Sylvia, with a grip of life on Maxwell.

"Wow, I really think we have something here... As hard as this is for me to say, Virgil Shelton might have kidnapped her again..." said Jeremy Briggs.

Sylvia gasped and sobbed.

"Maybe trying to finish what he never did!" whimpered Sylvia, dabbing her eyes with another tissue.

"Well, I did see Fran at a bank robbery with her kidnapper a week ago. She didn't look like she was hurt. I think she was okay," said Maxwell.

"This is good though," said Hudson Taylor optimistically. "I feel a connection between these two kidnappings. At least now we have a suspect. We'll keep in touch. Take care of yourself Sylvia. Fran's a tough girl; I think she'll be okay. Faith is very powerful if you believe."

"Good day," parted Hudson and Jeremy in unison.

The two cops walked out of the office and left the house.

"How did Fran get over it Sylvia?" questioned a curious Niles.

"Fran was always a strong girl. She wouldn't let things get her down. For the first few months after her kidnapping it was hell, but Fran improved drastically all of a sudden and was back to her old self. She had Val to help her out too.

People would ask her about it for a while, but they eventually got over it. Fran was good at forgetting the past and moving on with life. I was never like that. It must be nice to be. I guess she got it from her father," said Sylvia, blowing her runny nose into a Kleenex tissue.

"Fran really is amazing. I hope this will all come out okay," said Maxwell, even though in the back of his mind he was scared to death that he would lose Fran.

"So do I," pleaded C.C.

"Goodbye, I'm gonna go talk to Val and Morty now. They need to know about all this," said Sylvia, gloomily as she walked out the door and then out of the house into the afternoon light.

"Niles, I'm going to lay down for a bit. Can you watch the children?" asked Maxwell, his voice edgy.

Maxwell got up from the loveseat and dizzily walked towards the door. He really wasn't feeling very well. This meeting about what happened to Fran and what had happened recently was really getting to him.

"Yes, indeed I will sir. You get some rest. I know you didn't sleep well last night," said Niles.

Maxwell exited the office and went upstairs to his room.

"He's really hurting isn't he?" asked C.C., leaning up against Maxwell's desk with the palms of her hands on the edge.

"Yeah, you should have seen him last night. He couldn't sleep a wink. I had to bring him some warm milk at like three in the morning!" said Niles, pitying him.

"He's dealing with a lot of emotions right now. He's feeling guilty about what he said to Miss Fine. I heard the argument that they had that night. That was not Mr. Sheffield talking and I hope Fran realized that," said Niles.

"I know! I tried to tell her that it was his new play that he was working on and that our lead quit! That that was why he was in this grumpy, aggravated mood of his. But she wouldn't listen! Fran's just stubborn like that," complained C.C.

"He also didn't tell her how he felt when he saw her at the bank robbery. He's really regretting that. He's sad because he really misses her. He's also upset and scared and worried about Fran being kidnapped. I think he was finally going to make a move the next morning after he was going to apologize to her, but that didn't exactly work out for him. And now with this whole past kidnapping... and that kidnapper on the lose! The man's gonna have non-stop insomnia! I really feel bad for him. He's not just worried about himself; he's worried about his kids. I know, you know and he knows that they think of Fran as their mother. What happens when she doesn't come home? What happens if something bad happens to her? What if C.C? What if?" said Niles, really caught up in the moment.

"Niles, don't you think that way!" scolded C.C. "You have to be positive!"

"Yes, I know! Well, I just pray that Maxwell doesn't lose another wife and that his children don't lose another mother! They shouldn't have to go through that again! They don't deserve it I tell you! This house was so lifeless and so... so... I don't even want to think about it again! It was no joyride for me! It was a dark age for them! I know you didn't like working with Mr. Sheffield when he was like he was then either! Mr. Sheffield has gone through a lot! He might have been rich, but his parents never even gave a damn! He had to grow up without a lot of love and that's hard. I just wish life would give him a break, you know? I wish people would give him a break. They look at him and they think, 'Oh, he's just another wealthy, arrogant Producer who has an easy life!' Well, Maxwell Sheffield never had an easy life! Everything was going so well and I really believed in my heart that someday Mr. Sheffield and Miss Fine would get together! Then this! I just really hope this turns out for the best! Because if it doesn't, this is one bloody messed up, cruel world!" proclaimed Niles, frustrated beyond belief.

"I know Niles, I know," said C.C. solemnly.

They both started crying lightly, because of all the emotion that was stirred up. C.C. gave Niles a hug and Niles didn't even really care that it was Ca Ca or Brunette or the Wicked Witch of the Northeast that was holding him. It was actually kind of nice. C.C. was actually kind of nice. He felt closer to her then he had ever been and so did she.


	9. History Repeats Itself

**Chapter 9: History Repeats Itself **

Fran awoke wide-eyed, her heart pounding madly. It felt like it was going to come out of her chest. Like it would just hop out. The hard thrusts were painful. She could even hear and feel the beating in her ears. With her breathing staggered, she forcefully pushed the covers off her hot body. She wiped a hand across her temple and could feel the beads of sweat. Her hand then fell down her face and landed at her side.

'It was just a nightmare... Just a nightmare...

Just a...

Wait...

No, it happened before.

It was not a nightmare, but more of a recollection of the past.

That means my kidnapper is—

No, no it couldn't be...

Could it?

After all these years...

I have to find out...

I have to know...'

She got up from the small sofa and left the living room, careful not to wake Jack who was sleeping on the recliner. Fran walked through the dark hall until she reached the room Mike was in, her bare feet patting against the worn carpet of the corridor. She shivered as she was only wearing a big t-shirt. The door was slightly cracked open and she peeked in. The dim light made a streak on the floor through the opening. He was still up and he left the lamp on. Mike was facing opposite her and was sitting on the side of his bed. He seemed deep in thought. Fran not needing to use the handle, slowly pushed the door open. It made a soft, drawn-out creaking noise and Mike heard it. He turned around, startled, but after realizing who it was, he turned back around again. Fran walked over and sat down next to him. The mattress was quite old, so it sunk in and made a springy noise when she sat down. She was about to say something when he started talking. He didn't look at her, but just stared straight ahead as he was talking.

"You know, I really hate having to live this way. Being on the run all the time. We have to leave soon, because the man who lives here is gonna come back. I hate doing this. I'd rather be in jail for the crimes I actually committed. My brother killed thirty-five people! No, but everything was so perfectly laid out. He made sure I would get blamed. Thirty-five deaths plus his own! I could get the death sentence for that! If only someone knew. If only someone could help me!" said Mike, just rambling on.

'Yep, it was him.'

"I can help you. I can prove your innocence," said Fran.

The air of the words proved it was definite, but Mike couldn't understand how.

"How? A good word don't mean shit! You have to have cold, hard evidence! You don't even know what happened!" said Mike.

"Yes I do," said Fran.

"What did you see it on the news or something? Who am I then?" he asked.

"No and you're Virgil Shelton," she answered.

"Yes..." he said, oddly and finally looked over at her. "How did you find out about what I did then? Or more of what my brother did?"

"You could say I had a firsthand experience," Fran said mysteriously.

"What do you mean a firsthand experience?" he said, looking at her like she's crazy.

"I was... well..." She shifted her hands and looked down at them. The nail polish on her nails was mostly chipped off and a ring was on a finger it didn't even belong. "I was the thirty-sixth victim," said Fran finally.

"What?" yelled Virgil. "Impossible," he said shaking his head.

"Why? I was never killed," said Fran.

"No way..." he continued.

"YES way!" declared Fran.

"That's crazy! That's insane! My brother kidnapped you and now I kidnapped you! No way... What the hell?" he mumbled and ran his fingers timidly through his blondish gray strands.

"Yes and it seems you never killed anyone. It was all a case of mistaken identity. I was the one who killed Gerald Shelton and he killed thirty-five people," said Fran.

"Oh, so now you admit it?" said Virgil, getting angry.

"What do you mean?" asked Fran, nervous about his tone of voice.

"You let them think I was the killer! The _Virgil _Shelton Slayings they called it! More like the _Gerald_ Shelton Slayings! You should have told them what happened! They should've have known! You could have set it all straight! Instead for years I live in anguish!"

"I... I was so young... I had amnesia at first... I didn't know... I..." Fran stammered in fear.

"It's all your fault! Everything! You shot my brother, not I!" he said through clenched teeth, fire in his eyes.

He grabbed Fran and slammed her against the wall. It was so hard that the wood dresser shook and some things crashed off it. She screamed as he put his fingers around her neck as if to strangle her. Fran started sobbing heavily and tears started flowing down her cheeks.

Jack, hearing all the commotion, woke out of his sleep and burst in the room.

"Mike, what are you doing?" Jack bellowed, afraid that he was going to kill her.

"Oh, it's alright Jordan, you can call me Virgil since she knows who I am! She was the last victim in my brother's killings and I'm trying to kill the bitch, so back off!" Virgil growled.

"How would you like to have a knife held inches above you? It's like a scare-the-shit-out-of-you horror movie, but you're not in front of the screen... YOU'RE IN IT!" Fran cried.

He loosened his grip a little around her throat, but he was still mad.

"Killing me won't solve anything!" yelled Fran in fear.

"Virge stop! You're not like your brother! Stop!" Jordan shouted desperately.

"I'm not like my... I'm not like... I'm not... you're right... I'm not like my brother," agreed Virgil, taking his hands off Fran.

She slid down the wall and fell to the floor weakly.

"You cost me my freedom! After I saved your damn life," yelled Virgil, pointing at Fran.

"I saved yours too. I shot your brother. I shot Gerald Shelton! Before he could kill you and then me!" said Fran, backing herself up. "I sat there, bounded to that wooden chair, wondering if I would ever see the sun again... if I could ever feel the warmth of its rays on my cheek... if I would ever see the loving faces of my family... that was hard on me... so very hard. I was only thirteen years old! He held his knife proudly over me and the look in his eyes told me that he had pure pleasure in doing this! In killing people!" said Fran solemnly.

"He was an evil man. He killed my parents... our parents..." said Virgil, calming down.

"But then you came through the door. You were my savior. You looked just like him. It scared me at first, but I knew you would help me. You brought me food and untied me, but you never took me with you. You said I had to stay here and that you knew he wouldn't kill me yet. You said it was too dangerous for me to leave now. Then one day Gerald held a knife to my throat. I was so afraid that I was going to die. I was afraid that you wouldn't come back for me. I was afraid that it was the end. But then you came through the door, not a second too soon. I managed to get some of the ropes frayed from messing with them for a while. I finally had my one wrist free, my right one. I saw him trying to kill you and you both had knives. I knew Gerald would win. He always won. He was going to kill you and then me next. Gerald had left a pistol on the ground and luckily, it was near my feet. My arm wasn't long enough to reach and I had to flip my chair over so that I could reach it. I took the chair and let it fall to the side. You guys didn't hear me over all the chaos. I took the gun in my hand. I knew it was loaded. I knew how to use it. I knew what I had to do, but I didn't want to. Time froze for me. It was a matter of life or death. I might as well have been your murderer if I didn't save you. I didn't even give Gerald a chance to stop. I never said that he could just leave you alone and walk off and that I wouldn't shoot him. I just went for it and watched him fall to the cold, hard floor," recalled Fran.

Jordan and Virgil listened intently.

"I took a life!" said Fran, bawling.

"I killed him with several gunshots. Not just one! I wanted to kill him. I wanted him to suffer! I got joy out of what he was doing. I hated him. I hated myself for doing what I was doing. His living, breathing body died because of me. Because of me! It was my damn finger that pulled the trigger! Evil or not, I took away his existence! That was painful for me! To have that power... I didn't want that power! I never wanted that power. Maybe he deserved to die, but I still didn't want to be the one to do it. I only needed to shoot him once, but instead I shot him several times. Several times. Several times! That's not like me! Gerald possessed me in the short time I was there. I'm glad this is over, I'm glad that I broke free," said Fran sobbing.

"So am I, I'm sorry. It wasn't your fault," said Virgil, truthfully.

"I was so young. I thought that I would get convicted for killing him! I didn't take to it as if I was killing him in defense. If I would have only known!" cried Fran.

"It's okay. I know. I know," said Virgil comfortingly and he gave Fran a hug. "I have one question though."

"What?" said Fran through cloudy eyes.

"How come you weren't afraid when you were kidnapped recently?" asked Virgil.

"I knew I could trust you, like I did so long ago," said Fran.

Fran gave a small smile and so did Virgil.

"I want to help you now, because I know that you are a good person... I want to prove your innocence. Just give me a chance. It's not too late," pleaded Fran on her knees.


	10. The Art of Starting Over

**Chapter 10: The Art of Starting Over**

"Whoa, hey where do you both think you're going?" asked Jordan, his hands on his hips, looking at how Virgil and Fran seemed like they were about to go somewhere.

"Aw, I'm sorry Jord, I forgot to give you a hug," said Fran, walking over to Jordan and grabbing him into a big bear hug. "I'll miss you!"

You could tell Jordan enjoyed the quick token of gratitude, but his intense dark eyes showed that he had something on his mind that was bothering him.

"Virge... we had a deal," said Jordan, pretending to act annoyed, but still serious about it. "Does painting ring a bell?"

"Aw, I plum forgot!" Virgil rubbed his forehead in frustration.

"Plum forgot?" asked Fran, trying to keep a straight face, but giggled all the same.

"Hey, _hey_... you don't see me making fun of how you talk and don't even get me started on that road!" teased Virgil.

Fran didn't say anything, but stood there gawking as if she couldn't believe what he had just said.

"Hmmph!" She pretended to be mad and went over to the couch and plopped down on it, her arms folded in front of her chest. She sat there pouting.

"As I was saying," continued Jordan. "A deals a deal and I need a picture! There is an art show in England and I really wanna show my work there. I just really need the painting!"

"I guess that's where I come in," said Fran.

"Yes, indeed," replied Jordan.

"So what do I have to do?"

"Pose for me, while I paint you."

"What should I wear?"

"Well since I so conveniently did your laundry Fran, you could wear that purple dress that you had on when you came here," suggested Jordan.

"All right," agreed Fran.

"And you don't need any shoes, barefoot is fine!" added Jordan before she exited into the bedroom.

A few moments later, Fran emerged sporting the same violet, nurse-like dress she had worn when she was kidnapped.

"Okay Nurse Betty, I want you to sit over there," said Jack pointing towards a shady, secluded corner in the small living room.

She sat down, her legs folded towards her side. Virgil came over to her and tousled her hair.

"Hey, what are you doing?" asked Fran irritated, grabbing her hair.

"It has to be a little messy. Makes it look more natural. Just trust me, it's good for the picture," said Virgil.

"Perfect..." commented Jordan. "Now give me a look of what you are really feeling right now... give me some emotion!"

Jordan sat on a stool behind a canvas and went to work.

* * *

It had been a few days now and Jordan had called Fran in a couple times so that he could perfect his picture. Jordan was always quick at getting a piece done. He asked Fran what she thought of it and she said he was truly an artist. Virgil took a liking to it too, after all he was always supportive of his best friend Jordan. Jordan, of course, had always been there for him and knew the truth about who Virgil Shelton really was and who he wasn't.

After Virgil and Fran had helped Jordan pack everything into a truck that he had "borrowed," they exchanged goodbyes.

Fran stood there by the front door shivering a little, with her gloved hands shoved inside the front pockets of her leather jacket. Her long hair whipped around violently in the strong wind.

"I hope I don't have to come back to the states to see you behind bars Virge," said Jordan, hugging his buddy.

"Me to Jord, me too. But at least this time it will be for the right reasons."

Jordan handed Virgil a piece of paper with a cell phone number scribbled on it.

"Call me anytime you need me Virge. I mean that."

"Come 'ere lil' lady!" said Jordan, in a funny southern accent.

Fran chuckled as she shared a hug with him.

"I hope you have success in London!" Fran wished for him.

"Me too," said Virgil.

"Me three!" joined in Jordan.

They laughed and Virgil started walking towards the truck.

"See you later!" yelled Virgil. "Good luck Jordan! Until we meet again!"

"Bye Jordan! It was nice meeting you!" shouted Fran. "And take good care of me!" she said, referring to the painting.

"I will!" promised Jordan and he waved a last goodbye. Fran and Virgil watched as Jordan road away in his fully loaded truck off to the airport.

"It's a good thing he never got caught up in all of this. I definitely don't want people thinking that he's the bad guy. At least he can go out into public, I can't! This is a great start though. I get to come out from the dark and face the law and Jordan gets to live his dream!" said Virgil.

"Yes it is, well are you ready to go?" asked Fran picking up a suitcase of a few clothes she had taken from the house.

"I am," answered Virgil, grabbing two suitcases.

One of his was filled with some clothes and the other one was filled with some money and some other necessities. Virgil had kept some of the money and had given half to Jordan so that he would be able to make a good trip to England. He was proud of Jordan and really believed that he could have success as an artist.

Jordan and Fran put the suitcases in the trunk and hopped into the black Camaro, leaving the house back to the old man when he returned.

As they road away from the house, Fran looked out the window at the colorful trees that lined the edge of the road. They were so beautiful. The fall was a wonderful time of year. It was when the weather changed into a refreshing, cold air that tickled the hair on your skin, but made you feel so alive at the same time. There was quite an awkward silence for sometime before Fran spoke.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" asked Fran, hesitantly.

She was wondering if Virgil was making the right decision.

"I know that this might not turn out so well and that I might get put in jail. But I want people to know that it was not me who killed those people. I want them to know that it was my brother. I want to stop hiding from the world. I have to do this. It's now or never!" proclaimed Virgil.

"I understand Virgil and I'm willing to help you. I want the truth revealed as much as you do," said Fran.

"I'm ready for a new beginning," said Virgil, determined. "I'd rather give up my freedom than my dignity!"


	11. Sleepless in Manhattan

-A relatively short, yet quickly updated chapter. That's gotta count for something! :) I hope you enjoy.

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**Chapter 11: Sleepless in Manhattan **

Maxwell Sheffield lay in his bed, his covers tucked to his chin. His room cast into darkness from the night. He tried hard to accept reality. She was gone. Dead, alive, lost... he didn't know. He only knew that she was gone. Gone from his house where she belonged. Away and out of his sight. That's what hurt the most. The fact that she was out of his reach. He needed her. Right now more than ever. He needed to hold her in his arms, to touch her, to feel her, to love her. To know, that in fact she was alive and breathing. That she was safe and warm. That she was all right. That she wasn't some prisoner of some madman... in a dark room... tied up... tortured—oh dammit, he knew he shouldn't go there. To the bad thoughts.

'But what if that was her fate? What if it's not going to turn out to be a pretty picture? What if she never comes home? What if she's hurt? What if she's going to die? Or is she already dead? There are too many questions and not enough answers. Why did I do this? Why did I deny her my love? The love that burns inside for her. The love for her that has taken residence in my heart. The love that I resisted. What if I had given into temptation? She'd be mine. We would have had something. Instead of nothing and now she's gone. Exactly what I was afraid of came back and slapped me in the face. I was so afraid of losing her that I denied commitment. Now, she's gone anyways and the sad part is that we never really had a relationship. A few kisses here and there, but that never amounted to anything. I should have never listened to the doubts that complicated my mind. We belong together. She should be here. In my room. In my bed. Under the soft, warm covers and in my arms. I'd never let her go again. Never again out of my sight. Oh God, please bring her back to me. I'll never take another moment for granted. I just want to taste her. Feel her soft lips against mine. Feel her hot breath against my neck. Entangle my hands in her thick locks of hair...'

He started to break down and cry.

"WHY DIDN'T I TAKE A CHANCE? WHY DIDN'T I MAKE SOMETHING OF IT WHEN I HAD HER? BUT NOW SHE'S GONE. AND DAMN IT IT'S ALL MY FAULT! I... I should have tried my luck. This life is on my side. It hurts worse not to say something than to say something you wish you hadn't. I never wish that I never told you that I loved you. I guess the most important things are the hardest to say. I'm sorry that I keep losing my page again. You can't just read a book and start it over and pretend like nothing happened when a lot actually did. I didn't treat you right Fran. I didn't do things right. I can't keep stepping one step forward and two steps back. It's not fair for you or for me. I'm sorry that I said that we were just good friends... You were more than that. You ARE more than that. So much more... SO, so, so much more. And I'm sorry... Hell, I screwed up everything. I guess I deserve this."

Maxwell looked up at the ceiling.

"Sara, I must seem pathetic don't I? The man I've become is not the man you married. I once was like all the rest. Willing to have fun and willing to take chances. I don't know what has become of me anymore. I lost a part of my self when I lost you Sara. True love is such a beautiful experience. That is what I had with you. Most people marry for money, but we loved each other. We had the real thing, Sara. Most people don't even get that once. And I thought I would never have that again until _she_ came through the door. Fran came in with the breeze. So unexpected, but so wonderful at the same time. I tried not to... I attempted not to fall in love with her, but how could I not when my heart decides whom it loves and whom it doesn't. No matter what happens, I will always love you though Sara. Forever. Just look out for Fran for me. Make sure she's alright. I love her too. Goodnight my love."

Maxwell laid his head back onto his pillow, his eyes open with Fran dilating his thoughts. He knew he once again would not get any sleep tonight. His tears fell like a heavy rain down his cheeks. The last time he cried this hard was when Sara died. He looked terrible. He hadn't gotten sleep in days. If you were looking at him, it would pain you to look in his eyes. His soul shined right through them. The hurting, the heartache, the sheer torture that the man was feeling. Words could never heal it. Time could never erase it. Only one woman could, and she wasn't there.


	12. The Crash

**Chapter 12: The Crash**

"It must have been hard," Fran whispered not looking at him.

Virgil thought she had fallen asleep and was startled by the sound of her voice.

"I thought you were asleep," said Virgil, progressing slowly down the road in his car.

"No, I was just thinking. With my eyes closed and all," responded Fran.

"About what?"

"Your life… no one believing you… everyone against you… it must have been hard to feel the pain that someone else should have endured."

"You have no idea. Sometimes I wish I had an eraser to delete all the terrible memories on the chalkboard of my mind. I try my best to scrape them off, but they barely fade and never disappear. I'm just glad I had Jordan."

"That's only one person though."

"I know, but at least it was someone. You wonder sometimes why things happen to you. Like why couldn't it have happened to someone else? Of course I would never wish this on someone else. Living in denial… hiding from the world like you did something wrong. Only God saw who really killed those people."

"I saw."

"That's why I need your help."

"I always wonder why some things happen to some people and other things happen to others. It's not fair," said Fran.

"Life is not fair, but that's just the way it is. You can't do anything about that," explained Virgil.

"Why did I have to get kidnapped? Why did I have to experience Gerald Shelton? Why did innocent people have to die? Why am I not married? Why do I have no real happiness?" she asked answerless questions.

"That's just the way it is. At least you didn't die. You can look at the people more fortunate then you, but if you focus on the people who are less fortunate you learn to be okay with your life and everything you hate seems less important."

"I only survived because of you."

"I knew if I had to save at least one of the victims. He killed a five-year old boy you know," said Virgil getting emotional and sobbing. "His poor parents… never getting to see their little boy grow up… never see his graduation… never see him waiting as his bride walks down the aisle… never have his grandchildren… never… never see him again… ALL BECAUSE OF THE PSYCHO I HAD FOR A BROTHER!"

"I'm glad I killed him. It was just something that needed to be done."

As he wiped his grayish-blonde strands from his face, Fran could see the hurting in his expression. After a few minutes of driving in silence, Virgil spoke.

"Are you married?" he asked, indicating the ring on her left hand.

"No, I just… just felt like putting it there," answered Fran, removing the ring and putting it on her right hand.

"I was never married… no one wants to marry a serial killer."

"Don't say that! You are not a serial killer! You are a wonderful, heroic person! Because of you I wasn't murdered. If it hadn't been for you I would have died at the early age of thirteen! I would be six feet under now!"

"I wish I could have saved more people. I only found his hideout by the time you were there. That's why I only saved you. I would have told the police where he was, but at that time they thought _I_ was the murder. It was all very complicated… I guess if they saw him holding you capture they would have figured he was the murderer… I don't know… and then they saw the gun that you shot him with… but they didn't know that you shot him because I took the gun. The only real evidence and since my brother was laying on the floor and was dead… they knew from him being shot in the back that there was no way he could have done that himself… they figured it wasn't you because Gerald was supposedly the "good" brother and I was the evil one. You got amnesia from falling on the floor… I made an anonymous call to the police to tell them where you were because you would die if no one found you and then I ran off."

"I remembered what happened some days after, but I was afraid to tell anyone what happened. I was afraid to say that I used a gun… I was afraid that it was terribly wrong that I shot him… I was afraid they would end up convicting you somehow and all these fears kept me quiet for years until I found you again."

"Well at least now we can tell the truth."

"Yes, I will be so glad when people will finally find out that it wasn't you."

"Do you wanna get something to eat?" asked Virge.

They had been driving around all night and Virgil was getting hungry.

"Sure, the sign back there said there's a diner in about a mile," said Fran.

* * *

Fran sat in the diner booth with a porkpie hat that Virgil had given her tilted down to try to cover her face and Virgil wore a Nike baseball cap pulled down.

"You're supposed to take your hat off inside buildings," remarked Fran.

"It's just courtesy. We're fine," said Virgil.

A waitress came over to their table. She was a young girl with dark skin and dark hair pulled into a bun and a kind smile on her face. Her tag on her uniform dress said 'Rochelle.' She asked for their order and Fran and Virgil both ordered turkey sandwiches. When they finally got their food they ate quickly, because they wanted to get out of there as fast as they could. The alert for being caught was very high. Fran had just put her last bite of her sandwich in her mouth when someone shouted just the thing they were afraid to hear.

"It's them! The girl who was kidnapped and the serial killer!" yelled the cook. A waitress went to a phone and started to call the police.

Fran and Virgil jumped out of their seats quickly and headed towards the door, running over the checkered floor. Several people stood up and two brawny-looking men came forth to try to stop the "criminal." Virgil stood outside the glass door, which was their exit, waiting for Fran. She stood in front of him and wasn't about to leave until she got her point across.

"Virgil Shelton is no murderer! I was there! I saw what happened! It was his twin brother! VIRGIL SHELTON IS INNOCENT! Gerald Shelton is dead, so leave Virgil alone! All of you!" Fran bellowed, her resentment coming out.

The diner fell silent as Virgil pulled Fran out the door. Virgil knew no one would believe Fran and that she was wasting her breath, but it was a good try anyway. When they got outside they realized they were in the middle of a thunderstorm. The sky was a freaky color and lightning crashed down in the distance.

"C'mon hurry! Get in the car!" yelled Virgil through the roaring thunder.

The rain quickly drenched their clothing as they ran across the gravel to the car. As soon as they were in the car, Virgil drove off as fast as he could.

"Where are we going again?" questioned Virgil as they came across a fork in the road.

"Go left, we have to get my diary," she said and gave him the rest of the directions of how to get to the place she had left it last.

"Why are we getting this diary again?" asked Virgil.

"It has exactly what happened during my stay with Gerald Shelton. It is good proof for when you have a hearing."

"So it's not at your house?"

"No it's in a special place. I wrote in it right after the incident happened. I didn't want to keep it around. You know bad memories and all. I hid it and I hope it's still there."

When they drove up ahead the weather seemed to be getting worse. The car was sliding on the wet asphalt and it was getting pretty dangerous to drive.

"I'm scared Virgil," whined Fran.

"It's all right, when we get up ahead we'll seek shelter somewhere," he answered, sure of himself.

As they drove across a small dark bridge, a huge tree branch crashed down on the front of the car. And then all of a sudden Fran screamed and everything went black.


	13. Thanksgiving

**Chapter 13: Thanksgiving**

Gracie sat with her head down on the dining room table. Dinner was going to be ready soon and she was waiting. Not that she was really hungry, but it was Thanksgiving and she had to at least be there. She had lost her appetite the moment Fran had gone missing. Fran Fine was so much like a mother to Gracie. Gracie felt as if she had lost her mother again, except this time she had gotten the chance to know her. Even if it was really just her nanny that she was without, Fran was never just a nanny. Fran was so much more than that. Gracie liked the feelingof having herhead hidden away. She felt almost invisible. It was so protecting. She remembered when she was younger in school and she had sometimes put her head down on her desk when she got upset. She had always sat in the back row, because she liked being unseen. Being unnoticed was comfortable sometimes, but it wasn't always fun to be on the outside looking in. Right now though, it was nice. Gracie stared at the plum and emerald striped placemat on top of the white linen table cloth, wondering where in the world Fran was. She was interrupted by her sister's tapping on her shoulder.

"Gracie, we're eating now," said Maggie, pushing the plate under her sister's arms that were down on the table so that she could sit the plate on the placemat.

Gracie lifted her arms up and sat back straight against her chair. Her father was upset as it was and she didn't want him blowing his casket over her posture.

"Oh, I was afraid you were crying Gracie," said Maggie. "Don't worry, we'll get Fran back soon enough. Just hold in your hope."

"Do you think Daddy really, truly loves Fran?" asked Gracie, pondering over the idea.

"Yeah Grace, I think he does. I mean the last time I saw him this bad off was when… was when Mom died. And if he loves her as much as he loved Mom, then he's really hurting. I mean think about it, with Mom he got married and had us… with Fran, he had nothing. They haven't even dated Gracie! I really feel bad for him… I mean Gracie what if he… what if he…"

"Buries himself in his work and tries to get away from us?"

"Mmmhmm."

"What… what if she never comes back?"

"Well, let's just hope that doesn't happen."

Maggie walked back into the kitchen and Gracie sat there looking at the wall in the dining room wondering what she ever did wrong to deserve to go through the same thing twice.

Soon everyone, or almost everyone, was seated at the dining room table. C.C. was there and Niles was sitting at the table too for once, but someone was missing—Maxwell Sheffield.

"Niles, where's Dad?" asked Brighton, feeling foolish for even asking the question.

"He wanted to take his dinner in the office," answered Niles cutting the 12-pound turkey.

"But that's the third time this week!" exclaimed Brighton.

"Yeah, well it's better than him being here and looking all depressed and… it's so awkward… I wish he was back to his old self," commented Maggie.

"What the hell? He can't do that it's Thanksgiving!" shouted Brighton.

"Master Brighton! I do not want to hear you curse again!" ordered Niles.

"Hell isn't a cussword, it's a place! As in _here_!" yelled Brighton, running out of the dining room and up to his own room.

Niles started to get up, but C.C. stopped him.

"Niles just let him go."

For the rest of the dinner everyone ate in silence. C.C. dismissed Margaret and Grace, as she was going to help Niles with the dishes after he gave some of the feast to Maxwell.

C.C. and Niles were in the kitchen loading the dishwasher.

"Niles, you can't take care of the children all by yourself AND clean AND cook!" said C.C., putting the knifes, forks and spoons into the basket on the side of the dishwasher. "Look, your already warn out."

"I know, but when I asked Mr. Sheffield if he would maybe _consider _hiring a _temporary _nanny to watch the children, he practically growled 'No!' at me. He said that no one is going to replace Miss Fine," explained Niles. "Like I would try to get someone to replace her!"

"I know Niles. Try working with him when he's like this!"

"I really don't understand him anymore. He should know that he isn't the only one in this house that is hurting," said Niles, closing the dishwasher.

The phone suddenly rang and C.C. answered it.

After several "Mmmhmm"s, C.C. hung up the phone.

"What?" questioned Niles.

"Fran and her kidnapper were spotted at some diner in Maryland," informed C.C.

"Maryland? That's like halfway down the coast!" yelled Niles.

"Yeah, I know."

"So what happened?"

"Well, the cook at the diner was a relative of a police officer up here who had informed him about the kidnapping. Supposedly when he was out in front to hand out some plate of food he looked over and saw Fran and her kidnapper eating at a booth. He cried out for help and Fran and that man were able to run off. Detective Taylor told me all that and also that Fran had shouted something about Virgil Shelton, her kidnapper, being innocent for her past kidnapping."

"So she definitely knows him and that's great to know that Miss Fine is alive after all this time."

"Yes, but what I can't understand is why she would defend him."

"I'm wondering about that too C.C."

C.C. smiled at him.

"What?" said Niles, looking at her funny.

"You've been calling me C.C. lately."

"Well don't get used to it Babcock! I'm just being nice to you because it's Thanksgiving. You have a lot to be thankful for today, you know."

"What are you talking about Niles? You have this family and I pretty much don't have one," explained C.C.

"You have us too," said Niles patting her hand.

"C'mon, we need to get Mr. Sheffield. At least this news should cheer him up," said C.C., smiling at Niles for his kind words.

Niles followed C.C. as they walked out the room and towards Mr. Sheffield's office.

* * *

Gracie had gone to bed earlier and was lying in her bed half asleep. She was, however, fully awakened when she felt this sort of sixth sense. She couldn't exactly put her finger on it, but she knew somehow Fran was in trouble.


	14. Bad News

**A/N:** I just wanted to say thanks again for your reviews guys! They really mean a lot to me. I'm glad to see people are enjoying the story. : ) Now on with the chapter.

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**Chapter 14: Bad News**

"Fran was spotted in Maryland? How the bloody hell did they get all the way down there?" asked Maxwell, with a hint of anger and nervousness in his voice.

Maxwell and C.C. were in a yellow cab on their way down to the police station. Niles had stayed at home to watch the kids.

"I don't know Maxwell, but that's what Detective Taylor told me on the phone. From the time they've been gone, they could have easily made it down to Maryland. You should be lucky she's alive," said C.C.

"And she defended that… that—" he started swinging his finger in the air in disgust, but was interrupted by C.C.

"_Yes_ and Detective Taylor seems to think she had some sort of good reason to do that. Maybe there was some other suspect in this crime. I mean if he really was her past kidnapper, don't you think he would have killed her off by now? We really don't know the whole story, because only Fran was the real witness to the crime. We will never find it all out until we get her back."

"I know who you are talking about," said the cab driver out of the blue.

Maxwell was going to ask the man why he had interfered in their conversation when the cabbie started talking again.

"The woman who was kidnapped had ridden in my cab the night before," explained the cab driver.

"What?" exclaimed Maxwell, practically flying out of his seat in anticipation.

_He saw Fran? She was in this same cab the night of her kidnapping? What did she say? Was she really upset? She was sitting in this same seat?_

He knew C.C. had talked to Fran, but Fran wasn't real close to C.C. at the time and probably wasn't as vulnerable as when she first left the house. Fran usually found strangers easy to talk to.

"Really, what did she say to you?" questioned Maxwell, desperately with his face near the plastic window in the cab that separated himself from the driver.

"She didn't say much, but I remember her though. She was a very nice woman. She was really down on her luck though. She told me that the love of her life told her where to go. I felt quite bad for her actually," the man continued.

The driver kept talking, but Maxwell tuned him out.

_The love of her life? She loves me? I can't believe it I… wait, I vaguely remember her saying that before when… oh no, she told me that night before her kidnapping when she said, "I love you, I thought that meant something to you." And I told her that I don't think of her the same way. I told her that we were just good friends. I told her that I only said I loved her in the first place because I felt sorry for her. I said she was unwanted… I said she was useless… How could I have been so cruel to a person who has done so much for me… for my children? And the truth is that I do love her. My love for her burns as an everlasting flame in the deep depths of my soul. Why did I lie not only to her, but to myself? Why was I so afraid? Why was I so scared? Why didn't I seize the moment? Is it because in fact, I felt a greater love for Fran than I ever did for Sara when she was alive? I loved Sara deeply and I always have, but Fran was… is… I can't even explain it. It's this overpowering and intoxicating desire that I feel for her. Because of that feeling I felt sick in my stomach that I could even love someone more than Sara. Was that it? I don't even understand myself. But no matter what it was, there is no adequate reason for the way I behaved. So my lead had quit? That was no excuse either. I'll never forgive myself. Oh God, what have I done?_

Maxwell held his hand over his head as if a headache was coming on. He leaned back against the cab seat in misery.

"Thank you," he told the cab driver and then to C.C., "Just tell me when we get there."

* * *

Maxwell slouched way down in a chair when he entered Detective Hudson Taylor's office. It wasn't exactly how such a prominent man should display himself, but he wasn't really in the mood.

S_o they found Fran in Maryland? That doesn't mean anything. I want a real lead. Something that is going to get me closer to her. These dead-ends are useless. Ok so Fran was in some diner? Sure officers there will be on the lookout, but they'll probably never find her. After all, it's been over 15 years and they still haven't found the murderer she's with. _

He waited to hear whatever "bull shit" as he so often thought it, that Briggs and Hudson were going to disclose to him.

As soon as C.C. came in and took a seat, an officer came in the office and gestured Detective Taylor and Lieutenant Briggs out of the room to speak with them.

"Excuse me," said the detective, pardoning himself as he exited the office.

When they came back in, the shocked looks on their faces told Maxwell something was up.

"It's bad isn't? You have bad news don't you?" asked Maxwell, assuming the worst.

After Sara died, it was always less painful for him if he thought of the worst possible thing to happen. That way when something happened, it didn't seem as bad and was sort of a relief.

"Maxwell!" complained an annoyed C.C.

C.C. really hated his attitude toward things lately, especially the fact that he didn't even have Thanksgiving with his own family.

"I'm afraid so," said Jeremy Briggs, closing the door and then leaning against a beige file cabinet.

Hudson Taylor took his own seat and folded his hands together atop his desk. He addressed Maxwell and C.C. seriously.

"Yes, it seems so and I'm not sure exactly how to break this to you. You see, the car that Fran Fine and Virgil Shelton were in went off a bridge," explained Taylor.

Once Maxwell heard this, he realized that this was one lead he didn't want to hear and quite frankly, he wasn't prepared for it either.


	15. The Scene of the Accident

**Chapter 15: The Scene of the Accident**

"Maxwell, Maxwell," said C.C. softly, waving her hand in front of his face to give him some air and make him come to.

When that didn't work, Taylor and Briggs visited the water cooler outside the office and came back with two Dixie cups of spring water that they splashed on Maxwell. He had already fluttered his eyes and awoken, but it was too late.

"Bloody hell!" Maxwell yelled from his position on the floor.

"Oh, sorry sir, we thought you were still out," said Hudson standing back up with Jeremy.

Maxwell scowled and got up, wiping the water droplets off his shirt and fixing himself up.

"It wasn't that huge bridge in Maryland that they went over was it?" asked Maxwell.

"You mean the Bay Bridge? No, no from the information we were given it seems it was some small bridge near a wooded area. That's why we need to get there soon and it's probably best if we go now. We have a small police helicopter, but only one other person can fit in besides the pilot, so who's it gonna be? " said Jeremy Briggs.

"Maxwell, you go and don't worry I won't tell the children anything yet," said C.C.

Maxwell responded by nodding his head. Jeremy Briggs led C.C. out of the room to tell her the directions, while Hudson Taylor, who also happened to be an experienced pilot, led Maxwell to the helicopter where they would journey to Maryland.

The copter landed in an open field, several hundred feet from the accident. As Maxwell stepped off the helicopter, his clothes and hair were blowing madly like the grass below his feet. Detective Taylor turned off the engine and stepped down from the copter as well. They started walking down the side of an old road surrounding by trees that was supposed to lead to the bridge up ahead. The wind rustled through the trees and made several leaves drop to the ground. Maxwell suddenly stopped, because off in the distance he knew it was the scene of the accident. People were huddled all around the bridge and Maxwell knew that was where the wreck was. It all reminded him of a nightmare so long ago.

**A total flashback to the past:**

It was nighttime as Maxwell Sheffield drove home from the theatre. It had been a busy day, but his play was almost ready to be put out and he was very proud of it. The sky gave him a sparkling smile as he rode down the road in his Black Mercedes Benz. He was as happy as could be. It was Sara's and his anniversary tomorrow and he had bought her a dazzling diamond necklace that he knew she would love. She told him so many times, over and over that she didn't need such fancy things and that just him was enough. He felt the same way about her and the presents they gave each other were nothing like the gift they had of being together.

_Sara is the light of my life. I've never been in love with a person like I have with Sara. I can't believe that we've already been married all these years. It seemed just yesterday that we said we said our vows. And now we have three beautiful children to take care of. I've never really had a real family, but now with Sara and my children I definitely do. Things just couldn't get any better._

He couldn't wait till he got home and saw Sara. They would tuck in all their children and little Gracie would get read a bedtime story like Goodnight Moon. She had heard it so many times, but she would always want it over any other book they would try to read her.

_Gracie sure does love Goodnight Moon. She always says goodnight to everything in the room including me and Sara when we read it to her._

Maxwell chuckled at remembering his daughter's silliness.

_Then she would give us both a kiss on the cheek and get under the covers. She would hug her teddy bear tight while we each kissed her goodnight. We would sit there for a few minutes just watching our little girl drift off to sleep. _A_nd Margaret… how much she looks more and more like her mother with each growing day. While, Brighton is a little bit on the rebellious side, he is a good boy at heart. I love my family, each and every one of them._

He loved going home after a hard days work, because it was so satisfying seeing his family. He couldn't wait to get home to Sara. He would tell her how much he loved her and he would show her just how much he did. Of course she would be a little late coming home, because she had left a message on his office answering machine saying that she had to pick up some dry cleaning. As Maxwell drove down the street, he realized that the traffic was dead stopped ahead. When his car got closer up, he realized that there was an accident up ahead. Two cars had hit each other and by the way they looked, even far back where Maxwell was, the people in the car had not survived the crash.

_I feel so sorry for the people who have loved ones in those cars._

When he got closer up he saw one of the cars—a Burgundy Chevy Impala. It was crunched up pretty bad and it made him wince thinking that someone had been in that car. The man from that car was lying on a stretcher and was dead. It wasn't until he saw the car—the baby blue BMW, that he panicked.

_Sara has the same car._

It was the first thing that registered in his mind. Of course, it wasn't like no one else in all of New York didn't have a baby blue BMW. It was just the possibility of it being her out of anyone else was so much greater. Because of this fact, he didn't want to take any chances and he got out of his car. Sirens filled his ears and the bright lights from the emergency vehicles blinded him as he started running towards the accident. The car was so badly misshaped. Crushed like a sardine can couldn't even begin describe it. It was so painful to even think someone was actually inside it and if the were, they were dead.

What if it was Sara?

_Oh God, please don't let it be Sara. Let her be at home. Let her be safe. Let this be some stranger. Let this be someone else._

A sinking feeling in his chest made him sprint harder until he was there. As soon as he saw the license plate his questions were answered. The woman stuck in the car was Sara. His beautiful, wonderful wife was in that jumbled mess that used to be a car. The car was as twisted as his insides now. He walked past the flares on the ground.

"Sir, you cannot come in here!" yelled a rescue worker.

"That's my wife! My wife is in that car!" Maxwell yelled half shouting and wailing at the same time.

Everything was so blurry and hazy… so unreal. There was no way this was happening to him. It was all so fast… he was just driving home. Now his wife was in a terrible accident and Jaws of Life were being used to pry open her door. He hoped to God this was dream... that this was all some freaky nightmare and he could just wake up and tell Sara all about it and how scared he was that he was going to lose her. He opened and closed his eyes and tried pinching himself. When the sharp pain was felt in his arm and the accident was so clearly in view, he knew this was all real.

Real. Real. Real.

The words echoed in his mind.

And since it was real, his wife was in trouble.

"Please save my wife!" pleaded Maxwell, his tears flowing freely. "I love her so much, She means the world to me. I'll just die if she's not okay."

A woman police officer came over and comforted him.

"We are trying our best sir, just have hope," she said, knowing that her words would do nothing to ease his pain. "It might help if you pray."

She felt so bad for the poor man. He was quite a talented Broadway producer. His plays had so much feeling and emotion put into them. She'd seen him before with his wife and children at one of his play premiers. His children were so sweet and his wife was so gorgeous. She found herself jealous of him for all his good fortune. But now his wife was injured badly for sure, if not dead and she felt sick for even being jealous before.

Maxwell folded his hands together and said a prayer for Sara's life.

"Save my wife! Please save my wife!" he screamed.

"We got it open!" yelled a rescue worker.

"Sara! Please be alright!" cried Maxwell.

The door crashed to the road from the car. Several people rushed over to do what they could to help save the woman trapped in the car. Maxwell tried to walk over, but the police woman stopped him and said that they needed all the room they could get. After a few minutes of people huddled by the car, one spoke out.

"She's dead."

Maxwell thought he was hearing things.

_No way could she be dead… it isn't possible… I'm just imagining it_…

Until another shouted that she didn't make it. Maxwell rushed over and looked over to see his wife that they pulled out onto a stretcher. He couldn't believe it. _His_ Sara.

"Looks like she died on impact sir, I'm sorry," said another man.

He thought he would just die right then and there.

Never again would he wake up to her beautiful face. Never again would he see her smile. Never again would he hear her laugh. Never again would he hold her. Never again would he kiss her lips. Never again would he ever see her. Never again.

Never.

The finality of it all was frightening.

He had never seen a dead body before except in movies. But it was never as gruesome as the real thing. She didn't even look like Sara and her injuries were terrible. Maxwell Sheffield had lost relatives before, but never ones that he loved so dearly as his wife. Now he would have to go to a funeral and he had never even been to one of those before. And it would be Sara in the casket. He stood over her dead body and stared at her. His tears poured out heavily and landed on Sara. Maxwell leaned down and kissed the top of her head that wasn't injured.

"I love you Sara, I'll always love you," said Maxwell to Sara's body, his eyes wet with fresh tears.

"We have to take her away now, Sir," said a rescue worker.

"Sara… SARA! Goodbye my love! I'll never forget you!" wailed Maxwell.

He kept his hand out as if he was reaching for her as they took her away.

"HOW COULD YOU?" he yelled furiously at the sky. "HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? I HAVE THREE CHILDREN NOW WITH NO MOTHER! WHY DIDN'T YOU TAKE ME INSTEAD? IT WAS OUR ANNIVERSARY TOMORROW! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU I hate you…"

A couple of the emergency personnel watched Maxwell Sheffield closely in case he was to run out into the oncoming traffic. A man who had just lost his wife was expected to be in a dangerous mental state and Maxwell Sheffield didn't look like he was coping to well.

Maxwell fell down to the cold, hard asphalt and cried because there was nothing else he could think to do. There was probably glass and other debris all over the street, but he didn't care. It was all so surreal. Sara was dead and yet he didn't want to believe it. It happened so fast that it seemed impossible yet it was all true. He saw her lifeless body. Sarah Elizabeth Sheffield was gone, never to return again. He still had this twinge of doubt. Like somewhere out there was Sara. That she was just missing and had disappeared. Like he just needed to find her. It was hard believing that she would never walk in his house again. It didn't seem possible. It didn't seem logical. That she had just left. That she was gone. How could a human being who meant so much just vanish so quickly?

As he laid there crying on the road so hard that he thought he might die, the police officer had tears in her eyes for a man who truly didn't deserve this.

**Back to the Present:**

"Mr. Sheffield are you alright?" asked Hudson Taylor, as Maxwell Sheffield had tears pouring down his face and was in some type of trance.

"I just remembered my wife dying," replied Maxwell, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"I'm sorry," said the Detective.

Maxwell never understood why people always said they were sorry when someone died. At Sara's funeral so many people came up to him and told him that. 'I'm sorry for your loss.'

_Why should they be sorry? They did nothing wrong. It's not like they dumped a mug of coffee on my shirt and feel bad about the big brown stain. An 'I'm sorry isn't going to bring back Sara. I guess people say 'I'm sorry,' because there really is nothing else to say._

"She was in a car accident, you know," explained Maxwell. "She was dead by the time they got into her car."

"So I bet this will be difficult for you." He pointed ahead at the bridge.

"Yes. Terribly. I just pray that Fran didn't have such an _excruciating _death as my wife experienced."

"We don't know that she's dead."

"We don't know that she's alive either."

They walked ahead in silence until they reached the old bridge where a detective came out and greeted them while some other people were examining the car.

"Detective Taylor, nice to meet you," said a detective, shaking Hudson Taylor's hand.

"Maxwell Sheffield, my name is Detective Jerry Mendel," said the detective holding his hand out for Maxwell to shake which he did.

"Tell me now if you found Fran," ordered Maxwell.

_Please don't let her be dead. I don't think I can take it._

"No sir, I'm sorry we didn't. But we found something interesting. First off, Virgil Shelton is dead. The car is only partially in the river, because it didn't exactly go over the bridge but more went down the hill near it where they had also hit a tree. The amount of water that came into the car could have been what drowned Virgil Shelton after he passed out from his injuries. His wounds were quite serious when we checked him out. Well the interesting thing is that Fran Fine was not in the car and the passenger door was left open. The seatbelt she was wearing was also cut. We found a pocket knife in the car that looked like it was what cut it. We believe that Fran might have been knocked out from hitting the dashboard or the side of the car as there were no airbags equipped with this model of car. The seatbelt looks broken also, so that it probably didn't help her much. I think that in Virgil Shelton's last seconds he pushed Fran out of the car, because we found him dead, laying across both seats," briefed Jerry Mendel.

"Or he could have pushed her out into the river," added Maxwell.

"That's the thing though, we need further investigation and hopefully we will find Fran somewhere in this area or maybe her body will wash up ashore," said Mendel.

"I… I really hope you find Fran," Maxwell choked out, his tears coming back again. "Alive that is… I love her so much. I've already lost my wife some years ago."

"I know sir. We are trying our best, trust us. That's how we found out about this accident. We were searching the roads in the area when we heard her being at that diner. There is a fifty-fifty chance that she died and her dead body floated down the river. There is also a chance that she lived and got amnesia and wandered off somewhere. This accident looks like it happened days ago," explained Detective Jerry.

_Fifty-fifty. Now that's encouraging. Half a chance to lose and half a chance to win. Half a chance for her to be somewhere alive and half a chance for her to be in heaven right now. Please Sara, leave her down here with me. I need someone to teach me how to live again. How to have fun. How to love. I am nothing without her._

"We found something," yelled an investigator holding up a stick with a piece of faded purple cloth with blood on it.

"Do you recognize this Mr. Sheffield?" asked Detective Mendel.

"Yes, Fran has a dress that is the same color as that."

"She might have been wearing this dress and it ripped while she was hurt or it got caught on something. We are going to test it to see if it is her blood and we will get back to you. Now this doesn't mean she is dead, she could just be injured. I'm not trying to mislead you, but I'm also not going to give you false hope. I hope you understand."

"Yes, of course. I understand."


	16. Memory Loss Lane

**Chapter 16: Memory Loss Lane**

Fran had been found lying unconscious on the ground by an old fisherman who lived near by the old bridge some days ago. His name was Edward Denver and Fran had been staying at his cabin in the woods. His wife had died some years ago and so did his daughter in a plane that crashed into the Pacific Ocean. His only daughter was about a toddler at the time and his wife was in her thirties when they died. His wife's name was Yvonne and his daughter's name was Vanessa. He had been widowed for a pretty long time now, given his old age and had adopted a small child recently that was named Jillian to keep him company.

"Remember anything yet?" the gray-haired man asked while he was fishing. He was wearing a funny-looking fishing outfit and a tackle box sat beside him.

Fran had walked out of the porch of the cottage to watch him fish again like she did every morning even though it was freezing outside. Once again, she had to deal with her mind being a black hole—every significant memory of hers had vanished.

"Well actually this morning, while I was drinking some coffee and watching Jillian I remembered some children in this big house calling me 'Fran,'" replied Fran, sitting on the dock and wrapping a forest green jacket that he gave her tighter around her.

"Good, well now I can call you that. I'm sure that was your name, yeah, short for Francine probably. You know, you had no identification on you which I found awfully strange."

"Are you sure I am all right Mr. Denver?" asked Fran, a little nervous for her well-being.

"Look, I told ya you can call me Edward and I'm a retired doctor. You have no internal injuries except your memory loss which you will get back eventually. All your cuts and scrapes are healed. You were lucky you weren't hurt very badly."

"Isn't it kinda late to be fishing? Isn't there like a fishing season or something?" asked Fran, laughing.

"Well, I guess so Fran, it being December and all, but the river isn't frozen over yet so they still bite. It isn't that cold today and I love having fish for dinner, so it's worth it."

"I suppose… Well, I'm gonna go back inside and see how Jillian is," said Fran starting to walk off.

"You know, you're really good with children. Jillian takes to you very well. I wonder if you worked in childcare or have children of your own," said Edward.

"I dunno, I hope I do. I really like Jillian… I really like kids in general—I think," said Fran, turning around and smiling.

"You know Jillian was physically abused when she was younger. She's five now, but I can't believe how anyone could do something like that to such a sweet child."

"Yeah, I can't either. That's so sad. I wonder where I came from. I hope I have a good family."

"Well from _that _accent,_"_ he said chuckling,"I'd say some area of New York, which is up north."

"Hey… actually this accent and my voice are kind of strange…" started Fran, but then she started to zone out.

"What, what is it? Did you remember something?" asked Edward, anxiously.

"Like the QE II adrift in a fog… someone said my voice sounded like that. There was a handsome dark-haired man, a blonde woman and I was there too. They spoke in a British accent… that's all I can recall... and now it's all fading away."

"The Queen Elizabeth II, that'd be a ship. That's funny that someone said your voice sounded like it. I've rode that ship a few times in my days and now that you mention it, it kinda does sound like your voice," said Edward.

"Oh thanks," replied Fran.

"Maybe you visited Britain and knew those people. Who knows… maybe it will all come back to you tomorrow in the blink of an eye."

"Do you think I'm married?" asked Fran, curious about if she had someone who loved her back home.

If she had a home that is.

"Well, you had another ring on when I found you, so I'm guessing you didn't lose a wedding or engagement ring in the accident. But even if you don't have a husband, someone out there is missing you, I just know it," explained Edward

"I sure hope so. Well, I think I'm gonna check on Jillian now, make sure she's behaving herself. Catch a big one for me!"

"Will do!" And just as soon as he said that, he felt a pull on his line and he reeled up quite a fine looking trout.

As Fran went inside and hugged the little, hopeful red-haired girl with freckles, she wondered if she would ever be able to remember her old life again. And maybe if it had been bad like Jillian's was, then maybe it wasn't worth remembering.


	17. Changing

**Chapter 17: Changing**

Maxwell Sheffield trudged into his mansion, slamming the door behind him. The force of it practically vibrated the walls off. It was early morning and he was beyond pissed. He had spent half the night waiting for a damn plane and the only seat he could get was in coach. And Maxwell Beverly Sheffield does not do coach. First he had to deal with some little kid kicking his seat repeatedly and then some twenty-some trashy blondie, supposedly the flight attendant, kept on hitting on him. He was just minding his own business not even giving the girl any hints that he was interested. As he was biting the olive off his toothpick, the plane had hit some turbulence and his martini glass (well it wasn't really a glass, being in coach they had put it in a Styrofoam cup, which he thought was completely ridiculous) had spilled on his pants. _She_ had the nerve to come over thinking that she was going to clean him up. Oh yes, like he would so graciously allow her to touch his trousers. He had grabbed the towel from her grasp in frustration and did it himself. Of course the wet spot had looked like he couldn't make it to the potty and that was just lovely. Now that he was home, he was extremely exhausted despite the fact that he really didn't feel like going to bed. He started towards his office, until he spotted a silhouette of a figure in the darkness that made him jump. Looking closely, he realized it was his youngest sitting on the bottom stair, her hand wrapped around the railing.

"Did you find Fran, Daddy?" asked Gracie in a soft, whispering voice.

"Young lady, why aren't you in bed? Do have any idea what time it is? And what do you mean _did I find Fran_?" Max snapped out furiously.

"Gee, Dad, I'm sorry—" started Gracie, about to walk up the stairs so that she didn't have to deal with her father's wrath.

"No, no sweetheart, I'm the one who should be sorry. It's been a long night, but how did you know where I was? Did C.C. tell you where I went?" asked Maxwell curious.

"C.C. told me, Maggie and Brighton that you were going to Jersey to meet with some backers, but I knew you went to find Fran," replied Gracie, staring at her purple striped socks that she was wearing.

Gracie knew this feeling that she was having about Fran being alive was abnormal, but she didn't want her father to think she was going insane and that she needed more therapy. In some way, someone was trying to inform her that everything was all right. But who was it? God? Her mother? Maybe this sixth sense thing was somewhat logical after all.

"How? How did you know? Did you overhear C.C. telling Niles or something?" questioned Maxwell.

"I can't explain it Daddy, I just know. Don't worry, Fran is alive. She really is. You have to find her Daddy, she's lost!" cried out Gracie.

"I will, I'm gonna find her if it's the last thing I do. You know, being away made me think. It made me think about you guys and how much I neglected you after your mother died. I acted like I was the only one who had suffered and it wasn't right. Especially you Grace, because you don't even remember your mother and I wasn't even there to be a father to you. You guys lost two parents when in reality you only lost one. I was not the same person that I was before Sara died. And then I had to hire all those nannies instead of really taking care of—" started explaining Maxwell.

"You regret hiring Fran?" interrupted Gracie.

"Never Grace, never," admitted her father.

"You fell in love with her like the rest of us didn't you?" said Gracie, attempting to smile.

"Yes. It's kind of hard not too. No matter how hard I tried and believe me, I tried."

He smiled too in remembrance of his beloved nanny. She had been gone a long while now and he had to admit that the house was just not the same without her. Something seemed to be missing. It was the love and affection she gave to every single one of them.

"Except of course it's not the same kind of love we feel for her."

"Yes, that's true. Now Gracie, you know that I still love your mother and I alwa—"

"It's okay Dad, I know. We were all okay with it. We were always okay with it. We always hoped that you would end up with Fran. Don't be afraid to love her Daddy. Mommy would want you to. She would want you to be happy. She would want you to have someone that cares about you. It's okay to love more than one person in your lifetime. Just don't go being afraid of it Dad. You were not only hurting yourself, but you were hurting Fran too."

Maxwell got teary-eyed at his daughter's heartfelt statement and gave her a loving hug.

"I know, I regret every time I hurt Miss Fine… Fran… I just hope she will forgive me for everything I have done when I find her. If I find her that is," confessed Max.

"You will Dad and Fran will forgive you. I know that Fran's okay. I think Mommy had a lot to do with it, you know she's on our side."

"She's always on our side," he said smiling and tenderly took a loose strand of Gracie's hair and placed behind her ear.

"She brought Fran here, you know," revealed Gracie.

"How do you know?"

"She told me."

Maxwell smiled at his daughter. Maybe Sara did tell her. Maybe his wife really did bring Fran to him. Maybe she would bring Fran back to him again. After all, she was known to make miracles happen.

"C'mon I'll go tuck you in. I'll read Goodnight Moon!" persuaded Maxwell, his eyes full of love for his children and at the moment his youngest.

"You haven't read me that since—"

"I know, but I want to. And I don't want to forget. I want to be the Dad that I always should have been."

"That's good, because Mommy would want you too and so would Fran."

Maxwell had tucked his daughter in and read to her, something he wished he did more often. After checking on the rest of his kids and making sure that they were sound asleep, he made his way downstairs towards his office feeling a new kind of happiness in his heart.

The bright light in the office and the noise of Maxwell plunging into his chair, abruptly awoke a sleeping C.C. who had decided to crash on the office couch. She had made phone calls all day trying to get backers and had dealt with bickering actors who were complaining about wanting to start rehearsing again whenever the heck Maxwell Sheffield was going to get back. C.C. felt so restless that she didn't think she could even make it upstairs to one of the guestrooms, let alone out of the office at all or even home.

"Well hello there Maxwell, welcome back," greeted C.C., yawning and stretching her arms out. "What did you find out? Is Fran okay? Why isn't she with you?"

Maxwell told her all about what had happened, about how Virgil Shelton was dead and that they never found Fran and that they were still searching.

"I'm so sorry Maxwell, I know how much you care about her," said C.C. genuinely and fixing her sky blue button down pajama shirt and pants that had gotten ruffled up from her sleeping. She sat up straighter on the loveseat.

"Well it's better than knowing she's dead. But at least that would have be definite and I would stop worrying my head recklessly about it," confessed Maxwell.

"Well now there's at least a chance. A chance is better than none at all."

"Yes, but I'm not very good with chances. After all, I never end up taking them."

Maxwell laid his head on his desk in frustration and tiredness.

"You don't mind if I sleep in here do you?" C.C. yawned out.

"No, no sure you can," replied Maxwell in a muffled voice, having his face down on the desk and all.

When C.C. heard him rustling through paperwork, C.C. addressed him.

"Maxwell?"

"Yes?"

"What are you doing? Why aren't you going to bed?" asked C.C., annoyed at the fact that he seemed to be slowly progressing back into the bad habit of burying himself in his work to escape the anxiety of reality.

Plus, she was tired and he was being loud while she was trying to sleep.

"C.C., I have work to do!" he argued, throwing his hands up in the air.

"You're working because it is something to occupy your thoughts. You're trying to distance yourself from everyone Maxwell. You can't keep doing this! You don't need to do this work tonight—no, correct me THIS MORNING!" shouted C.C.

"C.C., if I don't get started on some of these scripts, my career is going to go to hell in a nice little Broadway decorated HAND BASKET!" he yelled, slamming the stack of papers down on his desk in emphasis. "And you will have no job!"

"Maxwell, calm down, you'll wake the whole house up! You know damn well that's not why! Your profession is more than safe. It's about Fran isn't it? You're trying to work hard so you don't have to deal with the pain," C.C. said, looking down at stitching on the leather loveseat and fiddling her fingers on it. She knew that the subject of Fran was a rather delicate issue and was almost afraid to bring it up.

"I am doing nothing of the sort!" protested Maxwell.

C.C. made a look and Maxwell knew it was going to be hard to convince her.

"Look, C.C., I admit Fran being gone is quite devastating to me, but I really do need to read these papers through. I'm not going to do to my children what I did to them before. I even tucked Gracie in tonight and read her a book. I'm a changed man. Just let me do this work, I'm in a sticky wicket with those blokes at the theatre already as it is."

"Maxwell, I took care of it. Please go to bed, you need a good nights sleep," begged C.C. "You're lucky to have the family that you have Maxwell."

"You're right, thank you. You know C.C., I never knew there was so much kindness that you had all balled up inside," complimented Maxwell.

"Well, sometimes it just takes the right person to really help you bring the real you to the surface," said C.C., kindly.

Maxwell knew she was talking about Fran and was glad that Fran had helped C.C. like she did. C.C. really had changed, all because of an amazing, imaginative, hopeful, beautiful, true-blue Jewish woman from Queens. Was it really possible for one person to change people so drastically? It seems as if the power would come natural—yet it doesn't. Maybe that was what made Fran Fine so special. After leaving the office so that C.C. could rest, Maxwell Sheffield slowly trudged up the stairs towards having some desperate sleep that his body ever so ached for.


	18. Playing House

**Chapter 18: Playing House**

"Thank you Mommy," said the little girl after Fran put her hair in two long pigtails and tied pink ribbons at the end.

Fran really didn't mind the girl refering to her as her mother, after all she was probably the closest thing to a mother the poor little child ever had. It was kind of nice actually. Fran felt that she belonged and not remembering anything made belonging so very difficult.

"You're welcome, sweetie," answered Fran.

"No one's ever done my hair like that before!" exclaimed Jillian, a bright smile on her face.

Fran gave her a hug.

Then it hit her:

_It's really sad that no one even cared enough about Jillian to even do a simple hairdo on her. Instead they had to hit her. She's not even a bad child and she even has manners. Even if she was a little rowdy, she's just a kid! I can't understand how anyone could ever do that to their children. I wonder if I have a mom. A Dad? A family? A husband? Kids? Anything? Or was I an orphan too? _

Fran had to stick with how things were like glue to a kindergartener's Popsicle stick house. That's exactly what she would have to do—play house. Pretend. Pretend like she was part of this family. Even though it wasn't much of a family… an old man, a five-year old girl and well, she had to be at least in her late twenties or early thirties. But then weren't families supposed to come in all shapes and sizes AND ages. So they weren't blood relatives? That blood thicker than water stuff doesn't really mean much. After all, Fran fell in love with Jillian after only a few days. The feeling for Jillian that Fran felt wasn't unfamiliar to her and she didn't understand why that was so.

Fran was now lying on the living room sofa with Jillian napping next to her, gently stroking the little girl's back.

Whatever she was supposed to be doing or wherever she was supposed to be before the accident didn't matter now. Fran was just glad that she wasn't being rushed to remember anything by anyone and that she could just relax and enjoy this new life that she somehow ended up in.


	19. An Artist Discovered

**Chapter 19: An Artist Discovered**

Maxwell had held himself captive in Fran's room for the past couple nights insisting that lying in her bed made him feel closer to her. All because an investigator had told him that the blood sample on the fabric was indeed hers and her shoe found on the river's edge had made them give up search for her and assume she was dead. Then Niles had caught his boss in the laundry room holding a robe of Fran's with a Snuggle fabric softener sticking out of the collar very close to him. Max had gotten tears in his eyes remembering the morning he had left for London and the intimate gesture they had both shared in the kitchen in front of Val.

Now he had found himself in a place he really didn't want to be, still in pain from the life of a loved one that he really didn't believe he had lost.

"Why am I here again?" Maxwell asked the detective accompanying him, groaning as he leaned his head back against one of the stiff waiting chairs in the airport.

He hated airports. They were always so sentimental to other people, but never to him. People saying goodbye to their loved ones, stopping their true loves from leaving them forever and of course, greeting long lost friends. All he could think about was how Fran was probably dead and gone. He felt quite dead himself.

"We think we found the other kidnapper, sir," replied Detective Hudson Taylor taking a seat in the chair next to him.

"The other kidnapper? There were two of them?" Maxwell asked, confused.

"Yes, it seems the man who died had an accomplice."

"Well, it doesn't really matter much now, she's dead anyways."

"Mr. Sheffield, just because the rescue crew has given up search, it doesn't mean that I am giving up hope and neither should you," the detective said firmly.

Their conversation was interrupted when a scruffy, dark-haired man with handcuffs on was being walked out of the terminal with a police officer towards them.

Before Maxwell even gave anyone a chance to speak, he started towards the man.

"I swear if I find out that you did anything to her, I swear I'll kill you! Slowly and very painfully!" threatened Maxwell with clenched teeth at Jordan, while grabbing the lapels of the man's jacket and thrusting him backward. With Jordan being handcuffed, he couldn't exactly fight back.

Maxwell knew he was making a scene, but he didn't give a damn.

_Let them put it in the papers- "Sheffield Gets Violent in Airport." Let Andrew Lloyd Webber have his laugh!_

"Whoa, man, chill!" yelled Jordan backing away from Maxwell cautiously.

Noticing the commotion that this was stirring up and the crowd of people watching in awe, the detective led everyone into a back room in the airport where they could discuss this rationally like human beings, or so Hudson hoped.

"Now Maxwell Sheffield, I found this man at a London art show, displaying a rather questionable exhibit," spoke the officer. "I usually work in New York, so I had heard of the missing woman, so when I was vacationing in Europe and found this man with this artwork, well, I knew that he had to be a part of the kidnapping."

"And what exactly is this artwork you are speaking of?" questioned a curious Maxwell.

"It's a painting Mr. Sheffield. It's is a painting done of Francine Fine. We will bring it is as soon as this discussion is finished," explained Detective Taylor.

"Mr. Jordan Granger, you may speak," suggested the police officer, gesturing towards the distraught man in a metal folding chair.

"First off, I never kidnapped Fran Fine. Virgil Shelton is innocent for the so called 'Virgil Shelton Slayings,' it was his brother that killed those people. My friend Virgil, did kidnap Fran though at a convenient store robbery, because I needed someone for the painting that you found for the art show I was going to do in England. It was stupid, I know, but at the time we weren't thinking. She was never forced to do anything and was perfectly okay about doing the painting. We took very good care of her, we feed her well, we lived in a house with plenty of amenities and she could have easily left if she wanted—"

"LIER!" blurted out Max, pointing his finger at Jordan.

"Mr. Sheffield, I believe it is not your turn to speak, please continue Jordan," said Detective Taylor.

"As I was saying, she accompanied us at one bank robbery and the last thing I know of she was on her way with Virge, trying to prove his innocence for her past kidnapping that he was accused of."

"I have some unfortunate news, Mr. Granger, Virgil Shelton was killed in a car crash," announced the detective.

Jordan Granger gulped hard.

"Dead? He's dead?! My best friend has kicked the bucket… bit the dust? How can that be? NO…no not Virgil! Stop you're lying!"

"I'm sorry, but it's true."

"Is Fran okay?" Jordan asked worried. "I really liked her. She was such a good person."

"We are not sure. We never found her yet. Dead or alive."

Jordan became silent and a lone tear fell down his cheek.

"Officer Denver, lead Jordan out and ask that man outside to bring in the painting, I will deal with him later," requested Hudson.

Another man had entered with the painting and sat it on the table and then exited. Hudson Taylor removed the paper and revealed the masterpiece that Jordan Granger had created.

"Very talented man, isn't he?" said the detective.

Maxwell only nodded because he was totally stunned at the beautiful painting in front of him.

There was Fran, his own Miss Fine sitting in what looked to be a corner on the floor. Her deep brown eyes were so dark and sad. Sad from the harsh words he had said to her that had pained her deep inside. Her long brunette, curly hair fell messy down her shoulders. She had no makeup on, but there was this natural beauty that made her not really need any. Then there was _that_ dress, the one she had worn that night that looked so wonderful on her. The violet dress was a faded purple in the picture, yet it still looked good. Her feet were bare and it was just a lovely natural pose that she was in as if she was caught off guard and that she didn't really know she was being painting. Van Gogh might have been great, but he never had the kind of subject like Jordan Granger had had.

She was so entirely, heavenly gorgeous and Maxwell Sheffield was definitely rendered speechless.


	20. Imposter

**Chapter 20: Imposter**

The phone rang again as it had so many times before in Maxwell's office at the theatre. That infernal ringing that had always seemed to have a person with bad news on the other line. The noise that had kept interrupting his process of reviewing the actors' schedules and perfecting the dates and times so that Heidi Miller, the lead actress, would stop complaining about being there when it wasn't the right time for her to rehearse. Actually come to think of it, Heidi really wasn't concerned that much for her work hours, but was more preoccupied with getting the attention of a certain British Broadway Producer.

Yes, and she was at it again, already flirting and it wasn't even lunch break yet. Not that Maxwell Sheffield ever had the time to take a lunch break. Even Niles agreed that the man needed to eat more, as he seemed to be getting quite skinnier lately.

"Maxie Waxie, when you gonna take a break?" she cooed at him sexily, playing with his collar and running her hand down his neckline.

She was a dirty blonde. Of course _that_ had double meaning. It wasn't just her hair color, but the way she was too. He was however forced to put up with her foreplay or it was bye bye show.

"Excuse me, Heidi, I need to answer this."

Maxwell moved forward, extending his hand towards the phone receiver, which caused Heidi to be pushed off him.

"Maxwell Sheffield," he said, revealing his name to the caller.

The news on the other end of the line surprised him greatly.

"Maxwell Sheffield, it seems my one of my officers have found Fran Fine and are bringing her here, I need you to come down to the station immediately," informed Lieutenant Jeremy Briggs on the phone.

Briggs had hung up the phone after relaying the information, which was all as well because Maxwell Sheffield was speechless.

"Where are you going?" asked a disappointed Heidi, who was now sitting in his chair with her legs propped up on his desk.

He didn't answer her. Max instead ran over to the wood coat rack in his office, ripped his coat off of the peg and threw it on. Nothing was going to delay him from getting to that police station. He rushed out of the door dragging out C.C. and ignoring everyone's questions. They got in his car drove towards the station.

Everyone in the small, compacted office waited for Fran to be brought in. Maxwell was very nervous and wasn't sure what he was going to say. He wasn't even sure if she would forgive him.

As she was brought in Maxwell was overcome with emotion, but none of the positive kind.

"That is not Fran Fine," he spat out angrily, glaring at the imposter.

She had short, straight light brown hair with a very thin face and pale blue eyes.

"Yes, it is," the young girl in her twenties chirped out in a rather high voice.

Max gave her a threatening look.

He felt like one of those folks who got calls from people saying that they were their long lost child and in reality they weren't. It was just wickedly _malevolent_ for this woman to pretend that she was Fran.

"Oh I'm sorry sir, I guess she doesn't look like the person in the picture." The officer handed Maxwell the wallet and he saw that the driver's license was Fran's.

"I'm sorry about this Mr. Sheffield," said Jeremy Briggs regretfully.

"I can't believe this," stated C.C., crossing her arms.

"How dare you rob from a dead woman!" yelled Maxwell, grapping her shoulders and shaking her.

Maxwell definitely needed to consider signing up for an anger management class.

"Who said anything about her being dead?" questioned the woman, slowly backing away from the man that had gone mad.

"What do you mean?" asked everyone else in the room, astonished looks on their faces.

"Well, when I found her, she was out cold, but she was still breathing. And when I came back she wasn't there. So obviously she got up and walked away."

So that meant that maybe… just maybe she was alive. And that was all the hope Maxwell Sheffield needed.


	21. Central Park

**Chapter 21: Central Park**

It was mid spring, quite the beautiful time to be in New York. Especially Central Park where the lovely grass, flowers and trees really made you in touch with nature.

Fran had been missing for over a year and a half now and Maxwell knew it was time to move on with his life. Hard as it was, he knew that his children needed a mother. Especially since they had already unfortunately lost two. He didn't even love Heidi Miller, let alone even really want to marry her. But what was love to him? He realized that it had only caused him heartache and pain. Even though it really caused so much more wonderful things. After all though, how could he even expect to find a third person he loved? It's hard to find at least one true love in your lifetime, yet he had been blessed with two. Only to have them both taken away from him.

He strolled along on the sidewalk in his finely-tailored dark blue suit just thinking. He kept wondering about his life and if he really should marry Heidi. He pondered over this quite some time until a park bench came in view. It wasn't the well-crafted wood seat that made him openly stare, but more of the person who sat on it.

His eyes had to be deceiving him. There was no other possible way. She had to be a mirage, yet he wasn't in any desert.

_Am I dreaming? _

The most recent look he had of her had been from the painted picture that he hid in his closet that he always seemed to frequently glance at.

_But who else could look like that?_

Max wasn't even sure that she was real so he gingerly approached the bench and stood there. She looked over, quickly eying him suspiciously but not really knowing who he was.

_How does she not remember me? What if she never remembers me? What if this is some prolonged Amnesia that she will never get over?_

Her dark brown hair that was much longer now, whipped in the light spring wind.

"Mind if I sit here?" asked Maxwell, almost afraid to speak to her.

"No I don't mind, go right on ahead," Fran replied, smiling innocently at him and turning away shyly.

Her voice had changed. It seemed… softer. He recognized the way she looked at him, she had definitely thought he was attractive. And she seemed somewhat _shy_. And that was one word he thought he would never associate with Fran Fine.

_If only she knew that she used to be in love with me…_

Maxwell saw her looking towards the playground near where they were setting watching a young red-haired child slide down the slides. He knew that he had to speak to her. He had to tell her who he was.

He ran a hand through his thick hair. Max turned around towards her, resting his right arm on the back of the bench and then he spoke. "Hello Fran."

Fran practically jumped off the bench and then turned around towards him, obviously frightened.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," said Maxwell truthfully with kindness in his eyes.

"Who are you?" The chocolate brown pools which were her eyes stared directly into his, a little scared, a little curious.

"My name is Maxwell Sheffield and I am a Broadway Producer."

_Wait, that didn't sound right. That was too professional. Oh well, I already said it._

"I don't even know you." The look in her eyes told him that she wasn't lying.

"You did."

"Yes, but who are you? How _do_ I know you?" The question interrupted his gaze at the pretty, short yellow dress she was wearing.

"I was your boss. You were my children's nanny for a couple years and you took care of them. You may not know it, but you used to be in love with me. I am very much in love with you too Fran, even though in the past I denied it."

"You and I had an affair?! First I have some memory of killing somebody and now I learn that I committed adultery. That's just great to know!" said an upset Fran.

"Whoa, wait a second. What are you talking about?" asked Maxwell confused.

The sun was shining in Fran's eyes and she put her hand to her forehead to block out the rays before speaking. "Your wife. I assume you have one if you have children. What were you doing? Fooling around with the nanny in your own house? Or did you get a divorce and now I'm your wife?"

"It's not like that," he answered calmly.

Max took out his wallet and showed Fran pictures of her, his children, him, Sara and Niles.

"I'm a widower and I haven't remarried yet," explained Maxwell.

"You have beautiful children," complimented Fran.

"Thank you."

Fran felt great sympathy for the man next to her. She also couldn't believe that this handsome man loved her.

"Oh, I see. That makes sense. If we had children they would have had brown hair."

_And what gorgeous brown hair they would have._

"So I guess I'm not your wife then Maxwell."

"No, but you could be," he replied boldly, looking at her in a dreamy way.

He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand and let it linger there for a bit before she pulled his hand off.

A heavy air of awkward silence was around them, yet they were drawn to stare at each other and everything else around them seemed to disappear.

Maxwell broke the silence. "It's so odd to hear you call me Maxwell. You always used to call me Mr. Sheffield."

"Do you want me to call you Mr. Sheffield?"

"No."

"I was so afraid that you died during that accident. I still was up until today when I saw you. Which reminds me, how did you get here? Last I heard, you were in Maryland."

"Someone told me that I was probably from New York with my accent and well, I decided to move here. I really like it here."

"Well, I'm glad you did or else I probably never would have found you," admitted Max.

Before Fran could say anything, little Jillian suddenly appeared. "Hi Mommy. Who are you talking to? I thought you said not to talk to strangers."

_Mommy? Does that mean that maybe she's gotten married between the time she's been gone? I hope she didn't. I really hope she didn't._

The now six-years-old little girl was full of energy and she looked at Maxwell with curiosity.

"Oh, well of course sweetie, but you see he's not a stranger. I knew him from before I had the accident. I just don't remember him," explained Fran.

"Ok, well Mommy I'm gonna play with my friend Cindy on the swings."

Her Mom just nodded her head.

"Bye Mommy," Jillian said to her Mom. And then before running off towards the swing set, Jillian turned to Maxwell and said, "Bye Mister."

Fran looked off in the distance at her daughter running around with her friend Cindy. She was glad that she was having fun.

"Fran, who was that?" Max questioned, turning to look at Fran.

"My daughter," she replied simply.

"Fran, you do not have a daughter," said Maxwell with certainty.

"I most certainly do," answered Fran, annoyed.

"She doesn't even look like you. She's a redhead."

"And your children have blonde hair."

"You have a point," said Maxwell laughing.

"What's so funny?" asked Fran, looking at him oddly.

"Nothing, it's just that when we argued before you always won the arguments and I see you still do."

His smile soon faded. "I'm sorry about what happened the night before you got kidnapped. I didn't mean to say the things I did. I love you Fran and I always will."

"What do you mean I got kidnapped?" asked a frightened Fran.

Maxwell told her all about what happened.

"What's your daughter's name? Please tell me your not married Fran." Max looked deep into her eyes.

"Her name is Jillian and no I haven't gotten married to anyone. Jillian was adopted and was the daughter of the man I was staying with."

"Well that's good. I was going to get married to a woman named Heidi, but now that I found you I'd rather not. You can take Jillian back to her father and then you can come back home."

"Hello, I adopted Jillian! I'm her mother now! What part of that do you not understand? I can't just drop her like a sack of potatoes!" blurted out Fran.

"What about my children Fran? They already lost one mother and they don't need to lose two!" cried out Maxwell.

Fran became livid. "Just marry that Heidi woman and leave me alone! I'm overcomplicating things for you."

"I don't want to leave you alone! I love you Fran," said Maxwell getting very emotional and hugging her.

Fran pushed him off angrily.

"I don't remember loving you."

"You did though. So much. Dammit Fran, you loved me before that accident!" Maxwell whispered in her ear as he pushed her up against a large oak tree and stood very close to her. He leaned his head on her shoulder.

Fran pushed him off of her.

"Maybe this whole ordeal happened because you and me are just not to meant to be," said Fran, poking him in the chest.

"Then why did I find you here? Huh? It's so I can stop making the biggest mistake in my life. I was about to marry a woman that I don't even care about!" argued Max.

"Well I'm not going with you. I have to take care of Jillian, _my_ daughter!" yelled out Fran, starting to walk away.

"You are making things so much more difficult. I can't go home and tell my children that I found you and that you don't want to come back!" Maxwell said while turning Fran around to face him.

"Then, forget you ever found me!" Her cold, icy eyes and her stern tone made it _final_.

Final. Final. FINAL.

The words echoed ghostly and uninvited in his ears.

Final was so definite and eternal.

Maxwell stared at her wide-eyed, in complete disbelief. He couldn't close his eyes nor blink and they were burning, watering. For a moment, he stopped breathing. All he could hear was the loud, thumping race of his heartbeat. The world around him, time itself, froze. His jaw hung agape. Heartbroken could not even begin to describe what he was. He felt as if his soul, the very life inside of him, had been ripped out. Now, he was just a poor, defenseless body of flesh and bones, ready to be blown away with the wind.


	22. Just a Kiss

**Chapter 22: Just a Kiss **

_Forget?_

If it weren't so heart-wrenching, he would laugh at the irony of it all.

She made it sound so simple. So easy. So elementary. Like in a snap of his fingers he could just make all memories of her vanish into thin air like he was some kind of a magician. How could she expect him to just pretend that everything that had happened between them in the past meant nothing? What did she expect him to do? Go on living his life disregarding her completely while knowing that in fact she is alive? It'd be a cold day in the fiery below before he would ever let that happen and he wasn't about to now.

"Stand here right now, look me straight in the eyes and TELL ME YOU DON'T FEEL ANY ATTRACTION!" He had said it harsher and more forcibly then he had intended. He did not want to make a scene like he had at the airport.

Jillian had already left from the park to go to her friend's house so Fran had no reasonable excuse to leave. She would just have to stand through this painful confrontation.

Maxwell grabbed her chin and tilted it upwards so that she would look him in the eyes. It was hard for Fran to look into his beautiful green eyes, because they were so hypnotizing.

"I can't lie; I do seem to feel drawn to you somehow." Fran had forgotten where she was, because she became so lost in his eyes.

His hand moved to her chin to slowly caressing her cheek. Their intense gaze at each other had not yet faltered.

"Please Fran, please remember. It's in there somewhere. I know somewhere deep inside you remember loving me. If you look into my eyes, you can see that I can't hide it anymore. I just wish your eyes would mirror mine," said Max, desperately.

And it was there. The love he had for her was written so clearly in his eyes. Fran felt so bad for him. Losing two loves in his life. But she wasn't really lost, however, how could she pretend to love a man who she doesn't know or doesn't remember knowing? Or loving? Love is such a powerful thing. Love was how she felt about Julian. Of course that was a different love. If Edward wasn't so old he probably would have kept Jillian, but he knew that she needed to have a more permanent life and that she could have that with Fran. After all, he wouldn't be around for much longer.

"I'm sorry I wish I could, but I just can't," said Fran, her voice cracking in sympathy for him.

Maxwell turned away from her and Fran could see a few tears falling down his cheeks.

He looked like Edward when he had to say goodbye to Jillian. Even though Fran promised to visit, he was still sad.

"Is there anything I can do?" Her voice was pleading, gentle.

He turned around to face her once again and the wetness of his face glistened in the sun.

"Would you—can I…kiss you?"

Fran hesitated and looked at him curiously. She wasn't exactly sure what to say at the moment.

Maxwell didn't even wait for an answer, but instead took her parted lips as a reply.

He wrapped his hand around her neck and played with the soft hair there with his fingers before violently crashing his lips to hers until she could feel the sting. His other hand on her waist kept pulling them closer. Maxwell could feel that her lips were slightly chapped from the sun and he enjoyed smoothing them over. Fran's tongue had somehow found its way into his mouth and he didn't mind.

He wondered if she wanted this too. Or was he just imagining that she was kissing him back?

"Oh Fran, I miss kissing you," Maxwell moaned out in between kissing her. "So much…"

The taste of her mouth was so delicious and it made him want more. He started wrestling with her tongue and she was willingly fighting back with his. Fran's eyes were pleasurably shut closed and he looked at her, satisfied with his open ones, still kissing her.

He knew that if she didn't remember him, he'd be damned if she didn't remember this.

Max started pulling at her bottom lip and he knew he nailed the target when a low growl came from her throat. They both became so weak in the knees that they fell back on the bench still enthralled in the kiss.

All of a sudden, Fran abruptly let go of his lips and pulled her head back from him. Her breathing was heavy from the kiss and her eyes were wide in shock, studying him. She had both of her hands on the back of the bench to support herself.

"Mr. Sheffield?"


	23. Meant to Be

**Chapter 23: Meant to Be**

"Wow, wow… Mr. Sheffield that was—this is… really awkward. I remember _everything_. Oy, this is a lot to digest."

Fran strode awkwardly away from Maxwell, her attention now to a rusted birdbath where a blue bird was splashing its feathers in the cool water. She was afraid of what he might say. Fran Fine was always the one to hold her head high and face whatever obstacle to come her way. Now, however, she felt weak because of the fact that for a period of time she wasn't really living and couldn't control what was going on. That was because she had forgotten the life that she had left behind and had started a new one. Both of those lives now clashed together and that was very confusing.

'_That kiss was just wow. This is all just so complicated. Where does this leave me now? Where does this leave US now?' _thought Fran.

"Fran, I wish you would at least look at me," pleaded Maxwell who was standing behind her.

He had realized that she hadn't said anything in quite awhile now and that was just not like her.

"What, you finally decide that now out of all times, to be on a first name basis?" snapped out Fran, but Maxwell pretended it didn't bother him.

"Fran, you realize that I just said that I love you," announced Max, leaning against her back and wrapping his arms around the front of her to pull her close to him.

She pulled away and turned to look him in the eyes. "How do I know you are not going to take this back too? How _do_ I know? How do I know if your just lying to me all over again, because you just want me to come back to be your nanny and nothing more?"

"Fran… I… really… truly… love… you… and..." he said between kisses that were gentle, but passionate. "I'm never going to take it back. Plus, why would I tell you that I loved you when you didn't even remember me and I could have gotten away with not telling you?"

It all really did make sense now.

Fran giggled and pulled away from his kisses as he was slowly starting to make his way down her neck.

"Mr. Sheffield?" asked Fran, still laughing.

"Please Fran, call me Maxwell or Max or whatever," he suggested.

"What happened to Vigil Shelton? Is he okay? I kinda blacked out after the car accident."

"He died Fran."

"He died?"

Fran sank down onto the wood bench in sorrow. She couldn't believe it. How could Virgil be dead? She was just about to—they were almost—she was gonna prove him innocent! That poor man had to live on the run and now his life was cut short. He had not only saved her life once, but two times.

"It's okay Fran, he's not going to hurt you anymore," comforted Max, putting a hand on her shoulder thinking that she was overwhelmed by memories the killer had caused.

"Hurt me?" She couldn't believe what he was saying. "That man never did such! He saved my life! His twin brother was the murderer of all those people and I was going to prove that, but then we got in a car accident. You shouldn't judge people you don't know!" yelled Fran, walking away from him once again.

"Fran, don't walk away! Don't leave me!"

She turned around to say one more thing to him. "If anyone hurt me it was you! Those things that you said to me before I was kidnapped destroyed me so much that I had to get drunk so I wouldn't feel the pain."

"I'm sorry Fran. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for every time I denied you, for every time I hurt you and for ever time I lied to you. But I really do love you Fran Fine and I suppose you don't really deserve someone who has wronged you so badly as me. So you go off and find someone deserving of you and I'll just die an old, lonely man like I was meant to," said Maxwell, walking past her as he went to leave the park.

Fran stopped him by grabbing the sleeve of his suit jacket and turning him around. "Do you mean it?"

"Do I mean what?" he said with sad, wet eyes.

Fran could not live with herself knowing that she was the cause of his sadness. And without him, she would be miserable too.

"Do you mean it? Do you really love me?" she asked again with uncertainty.

The words he had said before were too good to be true and Fran couldn't exactly believe it.

"Trust me when I say that that was the most meaningful, true thing that I have ever said in my lifetime," said Maxwell, with happiness in his voice.

"I love you Maxwell," confessed Fran, smiling.

"You don't now how much those words mean to me Fran. I love you too," said Maxwell holding her close to him and kissing her deeply on the mouth.

For a moment their foreheads touched as they stared into each others eyes so that they could both see the love that the other had for them.

Slowly they walked from the park, hand in hand towards their new life together. Both of them knowing that because of fate they were brought back together again and that was the way it should be.

_Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick,  
And think of you  
Caught up in circles  
Confusion is nothing new  
Flashback-warm nights-  
Almost left behind  
Suitcase of memories,  
Time after- _

Sometimes you picture me-  
I'm walking too far ahead  
You're calling to me, I can't hear  
What you've said-  
Then you say-go slow-  
I fall behind-  
The second hand unwinds

If you're lost you can look-and you will find me  
Time after time  
If you fall I will catch you-I'll be waiting  
Time after time

After my picture fades and darkness has  
Turned to gray  
Watching through windows-you're wondering  
If I'm O.K.  
Secrets stolen from deep inside  
The drum beats out of time-

You said go slow-  
I fall behind  
The second hand unwinds-

Time after time  
Time after time  
Time after time  
Time after time

**Epilogue:**

Everyone was overjoyed to have Fran back with her full memory. Maxwell didn't want to wait any longer so he and Fran got married in the summer and so did Niles and C.C. shortly after. Maxwell adopted Jillian and Fran adopted his children. Jordan Granger was taken out of prison and Fran was able to go to court to convince the judge who the real killer was with the proof in her diary so that Virgil Shelton could finally rest in peace. The Sheffield house is full of lots of loveand happiness once again.

THE END

* * *

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the story and much thanks to everyone who reviewed!


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